SEYMOUR  DURST 


"t '  'Fort  nteiia/  ^rn^erdam^  oj>  m  Manhatarus 


FORT    NEW  AMSTERDAM. 


(NEW  YORK.  )  ,  1651. 


When  you  leave,  please  leave  this  book 

Because  it  has  been  said 
"Ever'thinQ  comes  t'  him  who  waits 

Except  a  loaned  book." 


Avery  Architectural  and  Fine  Arts  Library 
Gift  of  Seymour  B.  Durst  Old  York  Library 


THE 


MASQUE  TORN  OFF. 


BY 

T.  DeWITT  TALMAGE,  D.  D., 

Authob  "Ckixbs  Swept  Up;"  "Around  thk  Tea  Table;"  "Spobts  That  KsuLf 

Etc.,  Etc 


ILLUSTRATED.. 


Chicago: 

J.  FAIRBANKS  &  CO. 

St.  John,  N.  B.:  J.  &  A.  McMillan.  London,  Eno.:  R  D.  Dickenson. 

New  York:  Evans  &  Co.   Detroit,  Mich.:  R  D.  S.  Tyler  &  Co. 
St.  Louis:  N.  D.  Thompson  &  Co.  Cincinnati:  Forshek  &  McMakin. 

San  Francisco,  Ual»:  A.  L  Banc  roft  &  Co. 

;88o. 


copyright: 
J.  FAIRBANKS  &  CO. 
1878. 


AUTHOR'S  PREFACE. 


The  following  discourses  were  stenographically  reported, 
and  by  me  revised  for  publication,  expressiy  for  Messrs.  J. 
Fairbanks  ft  Co..  Chicago,  111.,  who  are  the  only  authorized 
publishers.  T.  DeWitt  Tai.mjlgel 

Brooklyn,  Xov.  10,  1373, 


PUBLISHER'S  PREFACE- 


In  issuing  the  "  Masque  Torn  Off  "  from  our  press  we  do  it  in 
^e  profound  conviction  that  the  Christian  community  and  the  great 
American  Public  in  general  will  appreciate  these  soul-stirring  dis- 
courses on  the  temptations  and  vices  of  city  life,  by  Dr.  Talmage  as 
-seen  by  him  in  his  midnight  explorations  in  the  haunts  of  vice  of 
New  York  City,  with  his  exposure  of  the  traps  and  pitfalls  tliat  tempt 
our  youth  from  the  path  of  rectitude.  They  are  written  in  his  strongest 
■descriptive  powers,  sparkling  with  graceful  images  and  illustrative 
anecdotes;  terrible  in  their  earnestness;  uncompromising  in  denun- 
ciation of.  sin  and  wickedness  among  the  high  or  low,  sparing  neither 
rich  nor  poor;  and  are  Dr.  Talmage's  best  efforts  in  his  earnest, 
aggressive  warfare  against  the  foes  of  society,  every  page  burning  with 
■eloquent  entreaty  for  a  better,  purer  life,  and  are  of  intense,  soul- 
■absorbing  interest  to  all  who  look  for  the  advancement  and  higher 
•development  of  the  human  race.  This  work  is  the  only  reviss-d 
akd  authorized  publication  of  Dr.  Talmage's  sermons. 

THE  PUBLISHERS 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER  I. 

A  PERSONAL  EXPLORATION  IN  IIAUNTS  OP  VICE. 

Ezekiel  Commanded  to  Explore  Sin  in  His  Day — Divine  Commis- 
sion to  Explore  the  Iniquities  of  Our  Cities— "Wild  Oats"— Criti- 
cism of  Papers — Three  Million  Souls  for  an  Audience — Houses  oi 
Dissipation — Moral  Corpses— Cheapness  of  Furnishing — Music  and 
Pictures— The  Inhabitants  Repulsive— Surrounded  by  Music — 
Young  Men  From  the  Country — Triumph  of  Sin — Blood  of  a 
Mother's  Heart— Cannot  Hide  Bad  Habits— Fratricide  and  Matri- 
cide— The  Way  of  the  Transgressor  is  Hard — Destroyed  without 
Remedy  29 

CHAPTER  II. 

LEPERS  OP  nrGII  LIPE. 

"  Policeman,  What  of  the  Night?"— Desperadoes  in  Jerusalem  — 
King  Solomon's  Household— Night  of  Three  Watches — Two  Elders 
of  the  Church — Muscular  Christianity — Pulpit  Physical  Giants — 
Spiritual  Athletes — Thomas  Chalmers — Deepest  Moral  Slush  of 
his  Time — Hue  and  Cry  Raised — "  Ye  Hypocrites" — Men  of  Wealth 
Support  Haunts  of  Sin — Gospel  for  the  Lepers  of  Society — A  Mo- 
loch Temple— Heads  of  Families — Public  Officers — Obstacles  in  the 
Way — Dens  of  Darkness — The  Men  who  have  Forsaken  their 
Homes.  43 

CHAPTER  III. 

THE  GATES  OF  II ELL. 

Gambling  Houses — Costly  Magnificence  Untrue — Merciless  Place 
— Twelve  Gates — Impure  Literature — Novelette  Literature — Wide 
Gate — The  Dissolute  Dance— First  Step  to  Eternal  Ruin — Indiscreet 
Apparel — Fashion  Plates  of  the  Time  of  Louis  XVI. — Henry  VIII. — 
Modest  Apparel — Fashion  Plate  of  Tyre — Alcoholic  Beverage — 
License  Question— Gates  Swing  In— Is  there  Escape '—Practical  Use 


viii 


CONTENTS. 


of  these  Sermons — Holy  Imbecility — Christmas  Night  at  the  Farm 
House— Poor  Wanderer— "Oh !  Mother."  57 

CHAPTER  IV. 

WHOM  I  SAW  AND   WHOM  I  MTSSED, 

Genesis  xiv:  10 — American  Cities — Devil  Advertising  Free  Gratis 
— Purlieus  of  Death — Hard  Working  Classes  Missed — Grand  Trunk 
Railroad — Fortunate  Young  Men — Vortex  of  Death — Midnight  on 
Earth— Sense  of  Piety— "Kept"  Maelstrom  of  Iniquity — Aching 
Hearts — Fragments  of  Broken  Homes— Miserable  Copy  of  European 
Dissipations— Toadyism — Revolution  Needed  —  Public  Opinion — 
Police  Complicity — Edward  Livingstone — The  Printing  Press — 
John  Bunyan,  Richard  Baxter,  Five  Oceans  of  Mercy — "  Home, 
Sweet  Home."  71 

CHAPTER  V. 

UNDER  THE  POLICE  LANTERN. 

A  Mighty  City — Midnoon — Midnight — Clerical  Reformers—  Their 
Brave  Charge — Mortal  Fear — Tenement  Houses — Ring  the  Bell — 
Flash  the  Lantern — Night's  Lodging — Silken  Purse — Hear!  Hear!! 
— The  Homeless — The  Bootblack — The  Newsboy  —  "You  Miserable 
Rat" — New  Recruits — New  Regiments — The  Shipwrecked — The 
Two  Magic  Lanterns — The  Home — A  Change  of  Scene — Another! 
Still  Another ! ! — Flowers — Greenwood — Poverty — Coroner — Potters* 

Field — Close  the  Two  Lanterns  83 

/ 

CHAPTER  VI. 

SATANIC  AGITATION. 

Enemy  of  all  Good— "Give  me  500,000  Souls"— But  a  Short  Time 
— Elevated  Railroads — Crowded  to  Death — Underground  Railroads — 
Castle  Garden — Jenny  Lind — Trinity — New  York  Dailies — Mighti- 
ness of  the  Press — "  Nations  Born  in  a  Day" — Exhaustion  of  Health 
— Newsboys  Lodging  House — Boys — Extra  Romp  and  Hilarity — 
Over  the  Doorway — Savings  Banks — Western  Fever  Among  Them — 
Howard  Mission — Good  and  Bad  Amusements — Temptation — "Come 
with  Me" — Stinging  Remorse — To  Hesitate  is  to  Die  98 

CHAPTER  VII. 

AMONG  THIEVES  AND  ASSASSINS. 

The  Attack — Night  of  Theft  and  Assassination — "Who  is  my 


CONTENTS. 


is 


Neighbor?"  — Responsibility— Rogues'  Gallery— Loaded  Pistols — 
Show  me  Crime — Respect  Crime  Pays  the  Law — " A  Den  of  Thieves" 
— Plans  Matured — Liquors  Poisoned  Four  Times— Their  Modus 
Operandi — $75,000  Check  —  Division  of  Spoils — Blackmailers — 
Never  Fear  Them — A  Principle  Laid  Down — Professionals — Dens 
that  Excite  only  Pity— "You  Must  Dress  Better"— Crime  the  Off- 
spring of  Political  Dishonesties — Immense  Cost  of  Crime — Grace — 
No  Admittance— Two  Incidents — A  Second  Deluge— Mercy  112 

CHAPTER  VIII. 

CLUB-HOUSES — LEGITIMATE  AND  ILLEGITIMATE. 

Two  Armies— Sword  Fencing— Unlucky  Clip— An  Honest  His- 
tory of  Clubs— Leading  Clubs  of  Europe — Of  America— Their 
Wealth — Membership — Furnishing — Fascination  of  Club  Houses — 
Another  Style— Flushed  Face—"  Chips  "  Test  their  Influences— Gen- 
erous at  the  Club,  Stingy  at  the  Home  Circle — Thousands  of 
Homes  Clubbed  to  Death — Epitaph— Effect  on  Your  Occupation — 
A  Third  Test — A  Vital  Question— The  Little  Child's  Influence— The 
Three  Strands— Pull  for  Your  Life  128 

CHAPTER  IX. 

POISON  IN  THE  CALDRON. 

The  Students  of  Gilgal— Gathering  Herbs— Death  in  the  Pot- 
Iniquity  must  be  Roughly  Handled — Its  Hiding  Place — A  Good 
Home  is  Deathless  in  its  Influence— Unhappy  Homes  are  Blood 
Relatives  to  Crime  and  Rascality — Occasional  Exceptions — An  In- 
dolent Life — The  City  Van — Four  Ways  of  Getting  Money — An  In- 
cident— How  to  Depreciate  Real  Estate — Warning  from  Gladstone — 
The  Marriage  Day — The  Scene  Changes — Leaving  the  Farm  House 
—Anxiety  of  Parents— The  End— Put  Back  Now  1  140 

CHAPTER  X. 

THE  CART  ROPE  INIQUITY. 

Construction  of  a  Rope — No  one  can  Stand  Aloof— Honest  Gam- 
bling Establishments— An  Introduction  to  a  First  Class  One— Second 
Class— The  "  Roper  In  "—Policy— "Saddle"— "Gig"— "Horse"— Ex- 
change— Desire  for  Gain — Incidents — Close  Proximity  to  Wall  Street 
— Gift  Enterprises — Their  Evil  Tendency — Be  Honest  or  Die — The 
Prodigal— The  Game  Ended.  .  151 


X 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  XI. 

THE  WOMAN  OF  PLEASURE. 

Solid  Satisfaction— An  Error  Corrected— Albert  Barnes — Plant 
one  Grain  of  Corn— Mere  Social  Position — Do  not  Covet  it — A 
Worldly  Marriage — Mere  Personal  Attractions — Abigail — Make 
Yourself  Attractive — Not  Ashamed  of  Age — Culture  your  Heart — 
At  the  Hospital— "Seven  Days"— "Hold  My  Hand"— Flatteries  of 
Men — An  Angel — Discipleship  of  Fashion — Fashion  Plates — Bibli- 
cal Fashion— A  Beautiful  Attire— A  Bright  World  160 

CHAPTER  XII. 

THE  BINS  OP  SUMMER  "WATERING  PLACES. 

An  Ancient  Watering  Place— Tradition  Concerning  it— Modern 
Watering  Places — A  Picture— The  First  Temptation— Sacred  Parade 
— Crack  Sermons — Quartette — Air  Bewitched — Horse  Racing — De- 
ceptive Titles — Saratoga— Bets  Run  High — Greenhorns  Think  all  is 
Fair— Sacrifice  of  Physical  Strength — Fashionable  Idiots — "Do 
Thyself  no  Harm" — Hasty  Alliances — Domestic  Infelicities — Twenty 
Blanks  to  One  Prize — Load  of  Life— The  Fop — Baneful  Literature 
— Its  Popularity  at  Watering  Places — The  Intoxicating  Beverage..  170 

CHAPTER  XIII. 

THE  TIDES  OP  MUNICIPAL  SIN. 

Intense  Excitement — The  Stranger's  Reception — A  Wild  Laugh 
— Temptations  to  Commercial  Fraud — "This  Rivalry  is  Awful" — 
Decide  for  Yourself — One  with  God  is  a  Majority — Political  Life 
— Allurements  to  an  Impure  Life — Cormorants  of  Darkness — Six 
Rainbows— A  Thousand  of  Them— "Tick,  Tick  1"— An  Enraptured 
Vision  183 

CHAPTER  XIV. 

RESPONSIBILITY  OF  CITY  RULERS. 

Ancient  Tyre — A  Majestic  City— Its  Magnificence— Its  Present  Po- 
sition—Character  of  a  City— Cities  Hold  the  World's  Sceptre — If  an 
Unprincipled  Mayoralty  or  Common  Council,  there  will  be  Unlim- 
ited License  for  all  kinds  of  Trickery  and  Sin— Questions  that  In- 
terest the  Merchant— Educational  Interests— Some  Cities  these  In- 
terests are  Settled  in  the  Low  Caucus— Character  of  Officials  Affects 
the  Domestic  Circle— Even  Religious  Interests  Affected— John  Mor- 
rissey!— Pray  for  your  Mayor— And  all  in  Authority— Perils  and 
Temptations  of  the  Police— An  Affecting  Incident  193 


CONTENTS. 


xi 


CHAPTER  XV. 

SAFEGUARDS  FOR  YOUNG  MEN. 

David  and  Absalom — A  Bad  Boy— A  Broken-hearted  Father — "  la- 
the Young  Man  Safe?" — Same  Question  must-be  Asked  To-day— Not 
as  Other  Men  are — Win.  M.  Tweed — His  Strong  Nature — Success — 
Failure — Who  would  Live  such  a  Life? — Love  of  Home — Can  never 
Forget  it — A  Second  Home — Nothing  Coarse  or  Gross  at  Home — 
Industrious  Habits — The  First  Horticulturist — Work  or  Die — A 
ETigh  Ideal  of  Life — Aim  High — Respect  for  the  Sabbath — An  Inci- 
dent—The Greatest  Safeguard— The  Great  Want — "I  am  the  Young 
Man"— The  Turning  Point  207 

CHAPTER  XVI. 

THE  VOICES  OF  TOE  STREET. 

Voices  of  Nature — This  Life  is  a  Scene  of  Toil  and  Struggle — In- 
dustry— All  Classes  and  Conditions  of  Society  Must  Commingle — 
Democratic  Principle  of  the  Gospel — Hard  to  Keep  the  Heart  Right 
—The  Man  of  War— The  Victorious  Veteran  of  Thirty  Years'  Con 
flict — Life  is  Full  of  Pretension  and  Sham — How  few  People  are 
Natural — A  Great  Field  for  Charity— Poor  Wanderers — Strong  Faith 
of  Childhood— All  the  People  Looking  Forward— No  Census — 
Twelve  Gates  221 

CHAPTER  XVII. 

HEROES  IN  COMMON  LIFE. 

Great  Military  Chieftains — Unrolling  a  Scroll  of  Heroes — Heroes 
of  the  Sick  Room — Heroes  of  Toil — Sword  vs.  Needle — Great  Battle 
Fields — Domestic  Injustice — No  Bitter  Words— Peabody — Grinnell 
—Missionaries  at  the  West — Sacrificing  Parents — Melrose  Abbey — 
fhe  Atkins  Family — "Fire!" — Who  are  those  Paupers? — Corona- 
tion Day — Do  not  Envy  Anyone — The  Great  Captain's  Cheer  230 

CHAPTER  XVIII. 

THE  MIDNIGHT  HORSEMAN. 

A  Dead  City — Midnight  Witchery — Melrose  Abbey — Alhambra — 
Jerusalem  in  Ruins — The  Midnight  Ride — Midnight  Exploration — 
Jerusalem  Rebuilt — Plato— Demosthenes — Church  Affection — The 
Church — Sacrifices  for  It— Secret  of  Backsliding — Building  without 
•Secure  Foundation — Old-fashioned  Way — Does  it  Hurt?— New-fash- 
ioned Way — Wants  a  Ride — Reason  People  are  Angered — M  You're 


xii 


CONTENTS. 


a  Pauper  "—Triumphant  Sadness— Palace  of  Shushan— Its  Immen. 
sity — Home-sickness — The  Blacksmith — A  Bereaved  Mother — A 
Parlor  in  Philadelphia— Never  Give  Up— Our  Refuge.....  241 

CHAPTER  XIX. 

TRAPS  FOR  MEN. 

Wild  Pigeons— Call  Bird— Two  Classes  of  Temptation— Superfi- 
cial and  Subterraneous — Generous  Young  Men — Stingy  and  Mean 
Young  Men — The  Skeptic — Jonah — Progress,  Sir! — Light  of  Nature 
— Burke — Raphael — Mozart — Milton — Hold  on  to  It — Dishonest  Em- 
ployers— Terrible  and  Crushing  Fact — Eight  Lies — Drug  Clerk — 
The  Moral— The  Dissolute— Self  Righteous— Trumpet  of  Warning 
—The  World's  Bridal  253 

CHAPTER  XX. 

STRANGERS  WARNED. 

Solomon  Recognizing  Strangers — Great  Immigration — Hotels  of 
this  Country — "  I  must  Join  that  Procession  " — To  the  Academy — 
The  Picture  Gallery — The  Young  Men's  Christian  Association 
Rooms — Up  Broadway — A  Gettysburg — Underground  Life — Country 
Oustomer  and  City  Merchant — "Drummers" — Mt.  Washington — 
Seven  Apples — "Slicing  off  Pieces" — French  Sabbaths — Only  an 
Explorer  —  Sharp  Business  Man  —  Strangers  Welcome — Edward 
Stanley  265 

CHAPTER  XXI. 

PEOPLE  TO  BE  FEARED. 

Breaking  in  upon  God's  Heritage— Uprooting  and  Devouring 
-Classes  of  Society — Public  Criminals — Their  Immense  Cost — Con- 
flagration of  Morals—"  Stop  Thief!" — Society  has  a  Grudge  against 
Criminals — Punishment  Hardens  Them — More  Potential  Influences 
Needed — Raymond  Street  Jail — Black  Hole  of  Calcutta — Old  and 
Hardened  O Senders— Young  Men  who  have  Committed  their  First 
Crime  — Sir  William  Blackstone — Unworthy  Officials— "  Whisky 
Ring  "— 44  Tammany  Ring  " — "  Erie  Ring" — Fences— Skinners— •Con- 
fidence Men— The  Idle  Classes— Useless  and  Dangerous— Oppressed 
poor — Army  of  Honest  Poor — Children's  Aid  Society — Dorcas  So- 
ciety 275 

CHAPTER  XXII. 

THE  WORSHIP  OF  THE  GOLDEN  CALF. 

A  God  of  Some  Kind — Aaron  and  the  Golden  Calf— Moses'  Re- 


CONTENTS. 


xiii 


turn— When  a  Man  gets  Mad  he  is  apt  to  Break  all  the  Ten  Com- 
mandments—  Modern  Idolatry — AVall  Street — Bank  of  England — 
Michigan  Wheat — Maryland  Peaches — Immensity  of  its  Temple — 
Every  God  its  Temple  and  its  Sacrifice — Its  Victims — Solomon's 
Sacrifice — Clinking  Gold  and  Silver — Destruction  of  the  Golden  Calf 
Certain — The  Golden  Calf*  Made  of  Borrowed  Gold — Borrowing,  the 
Ruin  of  the  American  People — Nothing  Heavier  than  the  Spirit, 
Crosses  the  Jordan— Fool !  Fool!  Fool!  Change  your  Temples....  291 

CHAPTER  XXIII. 

DRY  GOODS  RELIGION. 

First  Wardrobe — The  Prodigal — Goddess  of  Fashion — Men  as  Idol- 
aters— Tobacco — Animated  Checkerboards — Benedict  Arnold — Sell 
his  Country  to  Clothe  his  Wife — Expensive  Establishments  the  Busi- 
ness Man's  Ruin — Extravagance  of  Clerks — Tragedy  of  Human 
Clothes — Fashion  the  Foe  of  all  Christian  Alms  Giving — Ninety 
Cents  on  the  Dollar— Theft  of  Ten  Per  Cent.—"  What  a  Love  of  a 
Bonnet!"— "What  a  Perfect  Fright!"— Fashion  Belittles  the  Intel- 
lect— French  Roof  on  the  M  House  of  Many  Mansions  " — Countess 
of  Huntington — Beau  Brummel — Vashti  802 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

THE  RESERVOIRS  SALTED. 

Good  Water — Jericho — Municipal  Corruption — Cleansing  Our 
Cities — Work  for  Broom  and  Shovel — Character  Illustrated  by  the 
Purity  or  Filth  of  Surroundings — First  thing  a  Converted  Man  Does 
— Power  of  a  Christian  Printing  Press — Publisher  and  Bookseller — 
Our  Common  Schools — Ignorance  the  Mother  of  Hydra-headed  Crime 
— Ignorance  in  New  England — Pennsylvania — New  York — The 
United  States — Reformatory  Societies  Important  Elements — Antietam 
— The  Greatest  Remedial  Influence — Homeless  Children — "  The 
Perlice,  Sir;"  Inebriates'  Children — Neglected  Children — Their  Faces 
—Five  Points — The  Merchant — "Lend  Me  Five  Dollars" — Mary 
Lost— Mary  Found  313 

CHAPTER  XXV. 

THE  BATTLE  FOR  BREAD. 

The  Ornithology  of  the  Bible— Elijah— The  Ravens— The  Great 
Conflict  To-day — The  Great  Question  with  a  Vast  Majority  of  People 
— A  Morning  Hunt  for  Ravens — Supply  Immeasurable — Be  Content 


\ 


xiv 


CONTENTS. 


— Recourses  Infinite — Rochelle — Drought  in  Connecticut — Biography 
of  a  Life — Relief  by  an  Unexpected  Conveyance. — White  Providence 
— Black  Providence — White  Angel — One  of  Three  Scourges — Dark 
Shadow  on  the  Nursery — Mrs.  Jane  Pithey — The  Two  Lives  325 

CHAPTER  XXVI. 

THE  HORNET'S  MISSION. 

The  Insect  World — The  Persians — Hittites — Great  Behemoths  of 
Trouble — The  Insectile  Annoyances  of  Life — "Only  a  Little  Nervous" 
— The  Wheel  Must  Keep  Going  Round — Friends  Always  Saying 
Disagreeable  Things — Harvest  Field  of  Discouragement — Local 
Physical  Trouble — Domestic  Irritation — Business  Annoyances — The 
Family  of  Wasps — Nest  of  "Yellow  Jackets  " — The  Gymnasium — 
Homoeopathic  Doses — Knock-down  Doses — Hamelin — Painting  of 
Cotopaxi— Fools  and  Sluggards— Polycarp — "All  Things  Work  To- 
gether for  Good."  338 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 

THE  OUTSIDE  SHEEP. 

No  Monopoly— Apple-Orchard— Severe  Guards— Other  Sheep— 
MacDonald— Non-Church  Goers — Safe  Side— Complete  Armor — 
Wreck  of  the  Atlantic — Launch  the  Boat! — Saved! — Fishing — Posi- 
tive Rejectors — An  Insufficient  Portion— An  Experiment — Try  It — 
Newton — Boyle — Doubting — Hope —  Peace  —  Love  —  Evil  Habit — 
Good  Templars— Rebuild  your  Home— No  Hope— Early  Days — The 
Bars  Down  348 

CHAPTER  XXVIII. 

THE  ACIDS  OP  TniS  LIFE. 

The  Brigands  of  Jerusalem — Years  of  Maltreatment— Thirst — 
Vinegar — Wine — Life  in  Sunshine — Acid  in  Lives  of  Prominent 
People — No  Sympathy  Expected — Betrayal  of  Friends — Sourness  of 
Pain — The  Ashes-  Compressed  in  One  Sour  Cup — Sourness  of  Pov- 
erty — Wilkie — Glorious  Company — Privation — Sourness  of  Bereave- 
ment—Charmed Circle  Broken — Jesus  Wept— Vacant  Chair — Sour- 
ness of  the  Death  Hour — Curiosity — Clean  the  Lens— Vessel  without 
Water—"  Dip  Your  Buckets"— Fighting  their  Own  Battles— Nana 
— Sahib— Gem  of  Great  Value — Break  the  Infatuation  361 


CONTENTS. 


XV 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 

TITE  DIVISION  OP  SPOILS. 

Allegory — Metaphor — The  Hunter's  Return— The  FascinatinirLife 
of  a  Hunter — Hunting  in  England — India — Western  Plains— Hunt- 
ing the  World — Edgar  A. Poe— World's  Plaudits— A  Change— Finan- 
cial Success — Dollar  Hunt — Northern  Pacific  Bonds — Ralston — 
Higher  Treasures— Heartfelt  Satisfaction — Glorious  Divisions  of 
SpoilsAFolly  of  Worldly  Hunt— A  Bare  Hand— Census  of  Old  Peo- 
ple— No  Division  of  Spoils — Death  in  the  Chase — Sudden  and  Radi- 
cal Change— Instantaneous— One  Touch  of  Electricity — What  is 
Religion?  373 

CHAPTER  XXX. 

TIIE  BLACKSMITH'S  CAPTIVITY. 

A  Scalding  Subjugation — Mines  of  Iron  and  Brass — Only  Two 
Swords  Left — Weaponless  People — Reduced  to  a  File — Keep  Weap- 
ons out  of  the  hands  of  Your  Enemies — The  World  has  Gobbled 
up  Everything — Infidelity — Capture  Science — Capture  Scholarship — 
Capture  Philosophy — A  Learned  Clergy — Recapture  your  Weapons. 
— Resources  Hidden  and  Undeveloped — '-Forward,  the  Whole  Line!" 
— Take  Advantage  of  the  World's  Sharpening  Instruments — Get 
She  Best  Grindstones-Small  Allowance  Iniquity  Puts  a  Man — Bitter 
O-'-p—  Dark  Night — Deep  Pangs— Terrible  End — Warning  Bell  on 
Inchcape  Rock — A  Sad  Loss — Going  to  Vindicate  the  Truth — No 
Newspaper  Assaults  for  Six  Weeks — Go  Ahead — Clap  your  Hands. 
 383 

CHAPTER  XXXI.' 

THE  DIET  OF  ASHES. 

A  Great  Feast — Guests  sit  down  Amid  Outbursts  of  Hilarity — 
Ashes — Testimony  of  those  who  have  been  Magnificently  Success- 
ful— Testimony  of  Kings — Commercial  Adepts— Come  up,  ye  Mil- 
lionaires— Sinful  Pleasurists — A  Troop  of  Infidels— Placid  Skeptic 
— Lord  Chesterfield — What  now  of  all  your  Sarcasm — Hungry — 
Where  Found— The  Antwerp  Merchant  and  Charles  V. — Mortgage 
—Only  One  Word— Take  Bread— Great  Fire— Echo  and  Re-Echo— 
Departure  Sudden — The  Spaniard  and  the  Moor — The  Swiftest 
Horse— Escape— Fly  1  Fly !  394 

CHAPTER  XXXII. 

KEEPING  BAD  COMPANY. 

No  One  goes  to  Ruin  Alone — A  Convicted  Criminal's  Words — 
Bad  Company — Olden  Times — Places  of  Business — A  Challenge — 


CONTENTS. 


A  Reward  Offered — New  Clerk — Show  ITim  the  City — Forgotten 
his  Pocket-book — Familiarity — Broken  In — Beware — Glance  of  Pu- 
rity—Shun the  Skeptic— "Explain  That"— Take  them  All— He  has 
Gone! — Shun  Idlers — His  Touch  is  Death — "I  Want  You,  Sir" — 
Self-Improvements — The  Harvest  Gathered  in  Old  Age — Avoid  Per- 
petual Pleasure-Seekers — Life  Occupation  to  Sport — A  Beauty  in 
Sports — Declaration  of  Bruuimell — Review— Always  be  Polite — A 
Beautiful  Daughter  403 

CHAPTER  XXXIII. 

THE  PRINCESS  IN  DISGUISE. 

A  Sick  Child — Skill  Exhausted — Princess  in  Disguise — An  Em- 
peror in  Disguise — Could  not  be  Deceived — Wickedness  Disposed  to 
Involve  Others — Iniquity  a  Great  Coward — Aaron  Burr — Blenncr- 
hassett — Benedict  Arnold  Secures  Money  and  Position — Major  Andre, 
Brave  and  Brilliant,  Sutlers  Death — Only  Satellites  of  some  Adroit 
Villain — Ignominious  Fiaud  a  Juggler — Stand  oil"  from  Chicaners 
— Royalty  Sometimes  Passes  in  Disguise— Kings  Without  a  Crown 
— Poverty — A  Pauper — A  Grander  Disguise — Sympathy  and  Help 
— The  Amazed  Doctors — A  Pilgrim— People  put  Masks  On — The 
Lord  Tears  them  Ofi— Mask  Torn  Oil— The  Tragedy  of  the  Pill- 
Box — Indian  Mixtures — Nostrums  that  are  Choking  the  Cemetery — 
Exact,  Minute  and  Precise  413 

CHAPTER  XXXIV. 

HELP  FOR  THOSE  OFF  TRACK. 

Help  for  the  Multitude— "When  Shall  I  Awake?"— Elegant  Lit- 
erature— Complete  Maps  Showing  all  the  Rocks,  Shoals  and  Quick, 
sands — A  Field  Comparatively  Untouched— Force  of  Moral  Gravi- 
tation— Easier  to  go  Down  than  to  go  Up — Power  of  Evil  Habit — 
Hard  to  Row  Again-t  the  Current— Seventeen  Years  Ago — Tobacco 
—Return  to  Old  Habits— A  Hard  Task  Master — A  Brilliant  Scene- 
One  Round  More — Two  Greetings— Tip-end  of  your  Fingers — 
Hearty,  Honest,  Hand-shake— Thrill  of  Pleasure— "  Isn't  it  Shock- 
ing"? — A  Special  Train — A  Hindrance — How  Hannibal  may  Scale 
the  Alps— Help!  Help!— Hospital  at  Antietam— No  Questions 
Asked— A  Letter — Seek  Advice— Sparta  has  Conquered — A  Holiday 
Gift — Proudest  Moment  of  Life  423 

CHAPTER  XXXV. 

TTIE  REPROACHFUL  OUTCRY. 

Rubicund  Lad— Sympathetic  for  Physical  Disaster— A  Sister's 
Letter — The  Postscript— The  Card— Every  Man  for  Himself— Not  a 


CONTENTS. 


xvij 


Worldling— Not  One  Word  in  Ten  Years— Insolvency— One  Hun- 
dred Cents  or  Your  Lite — Protest  after  Protest— Every  One  Against 
You — Another  Occasion — Great  Awakening — Lile  Boat  in  the  Surf 
— A  Startling  Revelation  Made— Competition  of  Earth,  Hell  and 
Heaven— Signal  of  Distress — Whose  Fault?— Fire!  Fire! — Entire 
business  of  Some  Men — A  Journey  for  You — After  Seven  Years — 
Patient  Waiting— The  Good  Old  Way— Just  Arrived— The  Sailor— 
"Settled— A  Sad  Catastrophe  435 

CHAPTER  XXXVI. 

THE  VACANT  CHAIR. 

A  State  Dinner— A  Son-in-law  and  a  Celebrated  Warrior — A  Vr 
cant  Chair  at  a  King's  Banquet — A  Living  Personality — Fond  Rr  ^. 
ollections — Have  they  any  Lessons? — A  Father's  Chair — Probabil- 
ity—  No  Admiration  for  New  Fangled  Notions  —  A  Father's 
Reprimand — In  the  Way — A  Sacred  Place — A  Throne  of  Influence 
—A  Mother's  Chair — A  Safe  Deposit  Bank— One  Scolded,  the  Other 
Cried- A  Queenly  Power  Yet— Another  Victory — The  Invalid's 
Chair — A  Story  of  Endurance — Payson — Baxter— Hall — The  Most 
Conspicuous  Thing — A  High  Chair — Will  Pay  its  Way — Do  not 
Like  Children— A  Thrilling  Western  Incident — Give  Him  a  Chance 
—A  Pastor's  Chair— What  will  it  Testify?— No  Vacant  Chairs.. 446 

CHAPTER  XXXVII. 

OUR  AMERICAN  CITIES. 

Courage  to  Look  Upon  the  Sins  o!' Cities— Laughed  for  Six  Weeks 
— American  Clergy  Covering  the  S:\s  Probed — A  Good,  Stout  Dose 
— No  Apology  or  Closing  up — Mission  of  the  Clergy— As  the  Cities 
go,  so  goes  the  Land — Every  City  a  Mission — Every  City  has  Certain 
Characteristics — Planting  the  Capital — You  have  an  Interest — City 
of  Palaces— Old1  Masters— Go  See  the  Work  of  New  Masters- 
Westward  Ho! — Historical  with  Footsteps — Its  Morals— Men  Better 
at  Home — Henry  Wilson — Clerks  of  Departments— Members  of 
Congress — A  Vast  Improvement — Never  a  Higher  Personal  Morality 
— Man  of  Morals — A  Law  Breaker— Statue  Laws — We  Need  no  Re- 
ligious Test — Lookout  Mountain — Resumption — Incense  of  Praise 
— Transitory  and  Unsatisfactory — Call  the  Roll — Will  Never  Forgive 
—The  Last  Chord  456 

CHAPTER  XXXVIII. 

HOW  MINISTERS  ARE  LIED  ABOUT. 

Population  of  the  World— Double  Anniversary  —Autobiograph- 
ical—Old Fashioned  Family— Twelve  of  Us— Legal  Study— Chief 


xviii 


CONTENTS. 


Ambition— The  Oldest  Religion— War  of  Twenty-five  Years-  N© 
Retreat — Rest  at  Greenwood — "Excoriate  Talmage" — "That's  Tal- 
mage" — Mounteback — Kind  Wishes — Two  Ways  to  Answer — Same 
Spirit — Ministers  Fighting — Build  Up,  Not  Pull  Down — Laymen — 
Our  Great  Congregation— Good,  no  Bad  Advice  Given — Metaphys- 
ical— Logical — Anecdotal — Illustrative  —  Go  Ahead  —  Jealousies — 
Misrepresentation  — Rowland  Hill  Incident  —  "Morning  Star" — 
"Shoo  Fly"— Working  Classes— Did  you  Really  Say  that  V— Theatri- 
cal Abuse — In  War-Paint—  Outrage— Things  Spicy — Secular  Press 
—Enemies  —  8,000,000  Curiosity  —  Falsehoods  —  Sailing  —  Wife 
Drowned— Saved  her  Sister — Sixty  Days — Invoking  the  Law  to  Help 
me — Ignorant  of  Topography  of  Philadelphia — Carried  Over  Fair- 
mount  Dam — Disappeared — Desolated  Home — Reward  of  $100— 
Full  Force  of  the  Law— Sympathy— Ten  Years  of  Rapture— "Help" 
—Comfort— 25,000  Men  in  Combat— Who  Shall  H*ve  It?  463 

CHAPTER  XXXIX. 

SENSATION  AGAINST  STAGNATION. 

Upset  Everything— $9,000  Bonfire— Temple  of  Diana— Stock  of 
Trinkets  Ruined — Disturber  of  his  Age— Sensation  after  Sensation 
— Definition — Stupidity — A  Compliment — Wide  Awake  at  Political 
Meetings — Vigilant  where  Financial  Interests  are  Discussed — Som- 
nolent at  Church  Services — Court  Rooms  Agitated — Radically 
Wrong — Old-Fashion ed  Sleep  Killers— Seven  Elders  and  Seven 
Sleepers — No  use  of  Hiding  the  Fact— Scotch  Pastor  and  Deacon — 
Missed  his  Profession — A  Banquet — Make  a  Big  Stir— Will  go 
Where  there  is  Help — Everything  Beautiful — A  Refreshing  Slum- 
ber—The Great  Danger  is  Stagnation — The  Best  Clerical  Critic — 
A  Heavily  Armed  Chaplain— Clear  as  a  Scotch  or  San  Francisco  Fog 
—Stir  up  the  Fire— Who  is  the  First  to  Howl— Will  Visit  the 
Theater  Before  again  Preaching  Against  It — Will  Seize  upon  the 
most  Startling  Things  that  can  be  Found — Attorney  for  the  Plain- 
tiff—Not Left  in  the  Lurch— Not  a  Part  of  the  way  only— That  is 
the  Track  514 


T.  DE  WITT  TALMAGE,  D.  D. 


Thomas  DeWitt  Talmage  was  born  in  1S32,  in  Bound 
Brook,  Somerset  County,  !N".  J.  His  father  was  a  farmer 
of  much  vigor  and  consistency  of  character;  his  mother 
a  woman  of  noted  energy,  hopefulness  and  equanimity. 
Both  parents  were  in  marked  respects  characteristic. 
Differences  of  disposition  and  methods  blended  in  them 
into  a  harmonious,  consecrated,  benignant  and  cheery 
life.  The  father  won  all  the  confidence  and  the  best  of 
the  honors  a  hard-sensed  truly  American  community  had 
to  yield.  The  mother  was  that  counseling  and  quietly 
provideno  force  which  made  her  a  helpmeet  indeed  and 
her  home  the  center  and  sanctuary  of  the  sweetest  influ- 
ences that  have  fallen  on  the  path  of  a  large  number  of 
■children,  of  whom  four  sons  are  all  ministers  of  the 
Word.  From  a  period  ante-dating  the  Revolution,  the 
ancestors  of  our  subject  were  members  of  the  Reformed 
Dutch  Church,  in  which  Dr  Talmage's  father  was  the 
leading  lay  office  bearer  through  a  life  extended  beyond 
fourscore  years.  The  youngest  of  the  children,  it  seemed 
doubtful  at  first  whether  De Witt  would  follow  his  broth- 
ers into  the  ministry.    His  earliest  preference  was  the 

law,  the  studies  of  which  he  pursued  for  a  year  after  his 
21 


22  BIOGRAPHICAL. 

graduation  with  honors  from  the  University  of  the  City 
of  New  York.  The  faculties  which  would  have  made 
him  the  greatest  jury  advocate  of  the  age  were,  however,, 
preserved  for  and  directed  toward  the  pulpit  by  an  un- 
rest which  took  the  very  sound  of  a  cry  within  him  for 
months,  44 Woe  is  me  if  I  preach  not  the  gospel."  When 
he  submitted  to  it  the  always  ardent  but  never  urged 
hopes  of  his  honored  parents  were  realized.  lie  entered 
the  ministry  from  the  New  Brunswick  Seminary  of  The- 
ology. As  his  destiny  and  powers  came  to  manifestation 
in  Brooklyn,  his  pastoral  life  prior  to  that  was  but  a 
preparation  for  it.  It  can,  therefore,  be  indicated  as  an? 
incidental  stage  in  his  career  rather  than  treated  at  length 
as  a  principal  part  of  it.  Ilis  first  settlement  was  at 
Belleville,  on  the  beautiful  Passaic,  in  New  Jersey.  For 
three  years  there  he  underwent  an  excellent  practical 
education  in  the  conventional  ministry.  Ilis  congrega- 
tion was  about  the  most  cultivated  and  exacting  in  the 
rural  regions  of  the  sterling  little  state.  ■  Historically,  it 
was  known  to  be  about  the  oldest  society  of  Protestant- 
ism in  .New  Jersey.  Its  records,  as  preserved,  run  back 
over  200  years,  but  it  is  known  to  have  had  a  strong  life 
the  better  part  of  a  century  more.  Its  structure  is  re- 
garded as  one  of  the  finest  of  any  country  congregation 
in  the  United  States.  No  wonder:  it  stands  within  rifle- 
shot of  the  quarry  from  which  Old  Trinity  in  New 
York  was  hewn.  The  value  (and  the  limits)  of  stereo- 
typed preaching  and  what  he  did  not  know  came  as  an 
instructive  and  disillusionizing  force  to  the  theological 


BIOGRAPHICAL. 


23 


tyro  at  Belleville.  There  also  came  and  remained  strong 
friendships,  inspiring  revivals,  and  sacred  counsels. 

By  natural  promotion  three  years  at  Syracuse  suc- 
ceeded three  at  Belleville.  That  cultivated,  critical  city 
furnished  Mr.  Talmage  the  value  of  an  audience  in  which 
professional  men  were  predominant  in  influence.  His 
preaching  there  grew  tonic  and  free.  As  Mr.  Pitt  ad- 
vised a  young  friend,  he  "risked  himself."  The  church 
grew  from  lew  to  many — from  a  state  of  coma  to  ath- 
letic life.  The  preacher  learned  to  go  to  school  to  hu- 
manity and  his  own  heart.  The  lessons  they  taught  him 
agreed  with  what  was  boldest  and  most  compelling  in 
the  spirit  of  the  revealed  Word.  Those  whose  claims 
were  sacred  to  him  found  the  saline  climate  of  Syracuse 
a  cause  of  un health.  Otherwise  it  is  likely  that  that 
most  delightful  region  in  the  United  States — Central 
New  York — for  men  of  letters  who  equally  love  nature 
and  culture,  would  have  been  the  home  of  Mr.  Talmage 
for  life. 

The  next  seven  years  of  Mr.  Talmage's  life  were  spent 
in  Philadelphia.  There  his  powers  got  "set."  He  learned 
what  it  was  he  could  best  do.  He  had  the  courage  of 
his  consciousness  and  he  did  it.  Previously  he  might 
have  felt  it  incumbent  on  him  to  give  to  pulpit  traditions 
the  homage  of  compliance — though  at  Syracuse  "the 
more  excellent  way,"  any  man's  own  way,  so  that  he 
have  the  divining  gift  of  genius  and  the  nature  a-tnne 
to  all  high  sympathies  and  purposes — had  in  glimpses 
come  to  him.    lie  realized  that  it  was  his  duty  and  mis- 


24 


BIOGRAPHICAL. 


sion  in  the  world  to  make  it  hear  the  gospel.  The  chn rch 
was  not  to  him  in  numbers  a  select  few,  in  organization 
a  monopoly.  It  was  meant  to  be  the  conqueror  and 
transformer  of  the  world.  For  seven  years  he  wrought 
with  much  success  on  this  theory,  all  the  time  realizing 
that  his  plans  could  come  to  fullness  only  under  condi- 
tions that  enabled  him  to  build  from  the  bottom  up  an 
organization  which  could  get  nearer  to  the  masses  and 
which  would  have  no  precedents  to  be  afraid  of  as  ghosts 
in  its  path.  Hence  he  ceased  from  being  the  leading 
preacher  in  Philadelphia  to  become  in  Brooklyn  the  lead- 
ing preacher  in  the  world. 

His  work  for  nine  years  here,  know  all  our  readers. 
It  began  in  a  cramped  brick  rectangle,  capable  of  hold- 
ing  1,200,  and  he  came  to  it  on  "the  call"  of  nineteen. 
In  less  than  two  years  that  was  exchanged  for  an  iron 
structure,  with  raised  seats,  the  interior  curved  like  a 
horse-shoe,  the  pulpit  a  platform  bridging  the  ends. 
That  held  3,000  persons.  It  lasted  just  long  enough  to 
revolutionize  church  architecture  in  cities  into  harmony 
with  common  sense.  Smaller  duplicates  of  it  started  in 
every  quarter,  three  in  Brooklyn,  two  in  New  York,  one  in 
Montreal,  one  in  Louisville,  any  number  in  Chicago,  two 
in  San  Francisco,  like  numbers  abroad.  Then  it  burnt  up, 
that  from  its  ashes  the  present  stately  and  most  sensible 
structure  might  rise.  Gothic,  of  brick  and  stone,  cathe- 
dral-like above,  amphitheatre-like  below,  it  holds  5,000 
as  easily  as  one  person,  and  all  can  hear  and  see  equally 
well.    In  a  large  sense  the  people  built  these  edifices. 


BIOGRAPHICAL. 


25 


Their  architects  were  Leonard  Yaux  and  John  Welch 
respectively.  It  is  sufficiently  indicative  to  say  in  gen- 
eral of  Dr.  Talmage's  work  in  the  Tabernacle,  that  his 
audiences  are  always  as  many  as  the  place  will  hold; 
that  twenty-three  papers  in  Christendom  statedly  publish 
his  entire  sermons  and  Friday-night  discourses,  exclu- 
sive of  the  dailies  of  the  United  States;  that  the  papers 
girdle  the  globe,  being  published  in  London,  Liverpool, 
Manchester,  Glasgow,  Belfast,  Toronto,  Montreal,  St. 
John's,  Sidney,  Melbourne,  San  Francisco,  Chicago, 
Boston,  Raleigh,  New  York,  and  many  others.  To  pul- 
pit labors  of  this  responsibility  should  be  added  consid- 
erable pastoral  work,  the  conduct  of  the  Lay  College, 
and  constantly  recurring  lecturing  and  literary  work,  to 
fill  out  the  public  life  of  a  very  busy  man. 

The  multiplicity,  large  results  and  striking  progress 
of  the  labors  of  Dr.  Talmage  have  made  the  foregoing 
more  of  a  brief  narrative  of  the  epochs  of  his  career 
than  an  account  of  the  career  itself.  It  has  had  to  be 
so.  Lack  of  space  requires  it.  His  work  has  had  rather 
to  be  intimated  in  generalities  than  told  in  details.  The 
filling  in  must  come  either  from  the  knowledge  of  the 
reader  or  from  intelligent  inferences  and  conclusions, 
drawn  from  the  few  principal  facts  stated,  and  stated 
with  care.  This  remains  to  be  said:  No  other  preacher 
addresses  so  many  constantly.  The  words  of  no  other 
preacher  were  ever  before  carried  by  so  many  types  or 
carried  so  far.  Types  give  him  three  continents  for  a 
church,  and  the  English-speaking  world  for  a  congrega- 


28 


BIOGRAPHICAL. 


tion.  The  judgment  of  his  generation  will  of  course  be 
divided  upon  him  just  as  that  of  the  next  will  not. 
That  he  is  a  topic  in  every  newspaper  is  much  more  sig- 
nificant than  the  fact  of  what  treatment  it  gives  him. 
Only  men  of  genius  are  universally  commented  on.  The 
universality  of  the  comment  makes  friends  and  foes 
alike  prove  the  fact  of  the  genius.  That  is  what  is  im- 
pressive. As  for  the  quality  of  the  comment,  it  will,  in 
nine  cases  out  of  ten,  be  much  more  a  revelation  of  the 
character  behind  the  pen  which  writes  it  than  a  true  view 
or  review  of  the  man.  This  is  necessarily  so.  The  press 
and  the  pulpit  in  the  main  are  defective  judges  of  one 
another.  The  former  rarely  enters  the  inside  of  the  lat- 
ter's  work.  There  is  acquaintanceship,  but  not  intimacy 
between  them.  Journals  find  out  the  fact  of  a  preacher's 
power  in  time.  Then  they  go  looking  for  the  causes 
Long  before,  however,  the  masses  have  felt  the  causes 
and  have  realized,  not  merely  discovered,  the  fact.  The 
penalty  of  being  the  leaders  of  great  masses  has,  from 
Whitetield  and  Wesley  to  Spurgeon  and  Talinage,  been 
to  serve  as  the  target  for  small  wits.  A  constant  source 
of  attack  on  men  of  such  magnitude  always  has  been 
and  will  be  the  presses,  which,  by  the  common  consent 
of  mankind,  are  described  and  dispensed  from  all  consid- 
eration, when  they  are  rated  Satanic.  Their  attacks 
confirm  a  man's  right  to  respect  and  reputation,  and  are 
a  proof  of  his  influence  and  greatness.  It  can  be  truly 
said  that  while  secular  criticism  in  the  United  States 
favorably  regards  our  subject  in  proportion  to  its  intel- 


BIOGRAPHICAL.  27 

ligence  and  uprightness,  the  judgment  of  foreigners  on 
him  has  long  been  an  index  to  the  judgment  of  poster- 
ity here.  No  other  American  is  read  so  much  and  so 
constantly  abroad.  His  extraordinary  imagination,  ear- 
nestness, descriptive  powers  and  humor,  his  great  art  in 
grouping  and  arrangement,  his  wonderful  mastery  of 
words  to  illumine  and  alleviate  human  conditions  and  to 
interpret  and  inspire  the  harmonies  of  the  better  nature? 
are  appreciated  by  all  who  can  put  themselves  in  sym- 
pathy with  his  originality  of  methods  and  his  high  con- 
secration of  purpose.  His  manner  mates  with  his  nature. 
It  is  each  sermon  in  action.  He  presses  the  eyes,  hands, 
his  entire  body,  into  the  service  of  the  illustrative  truth. 
Gestures  are  the  accompaniment  of  what  he  says.  As 
he  stands  out  before  the  immense  throng,  without  a 
scrap  of  notes  or  manuscript  before  him,  the  effect  pro- 
duced can  not  be  understood  by  those  who  have  never 
seen  it.  The  solemnity,  the  tears,  the  awful  hush,  as 
though  the  audience  couid  not  breathe  again,  are  oft- 
times  painful. 

His  voice  is  peculiar,  not  musical,  but  productive  of 
startling,  strong  effects,  such  as  characterize  no  preacher 
on  either  side  of  the  Atlantic.  His  power  to  grapple 
an  audience  and  master  it  from  text  to  peroration  has  no 
equal.  No  man  was  ever  less  self-conscious  in  his  work. 
He  feels  a  mission  of  evangelization  on  him  as  by  the 
imposition  of  the  Supreme.  That  mission  he  responds 
to  by  doing  the  duty  that  is  nearest  to  him  with  all  his 
might — as  confident  that  he  is  under  the  care  and  order 


2&  BIOGRAPHICAL. 

of  a  Divine  Master  as  those  who  hear  him  are  that  they 
are  tinder  the  spell  of  the  greatest  prose-poet  that  ever 
made  the  gospel  his  song  and  the  redemption  of  the  race 
the  passion  of  his  heart. 

The  following  discourses  were  taken  down  by  steno- 
graphic reporters  and  revised  by  Mr.  Talmage  specially 
for  this  work.  On  the  occasion  of  their  delivery  the 
church  was  thronged  beyond  description,  the  streets 
around  blockaded  with  people  so  that  carriages  could 
not  pass,  Mr.  Talmage  himself  gaining  admLiuoii  only 
by  the  help  of  the  police. 


CHAPTER  I. 


A  PERSONAL  EXPLORATION  IN  HAUNTS  OF  VICE. 

"When  said  he  unto  me,  Son  of  man,  dig  now  in  the  wall  ;  and 
when  1  had  digged  in  the  wall,  behold  a  door.  And  he  said  unto 
me,  Go  in  and  behold  the  wicked  abominations  that  they  do  here.  So  I 
went  in  and  saw  ;  and  behold  every  form  of  creeping  things  and 
abomina'tle  beasts. "—Ezekiel,  viii:  8,  9, 10. 

So  this  minister  of  religion,  Ezekiel,  was  commanded 
to  the  exploration  of  the  sin  of  his  day.  He  was  not  to 
stand  outside  the  door  guessing  what  it  was,  but  was  to 
go  in  and  see  for  himself.  He  did  not  in  vision  say: 
"  O  Lord,  I  don't  wan't  to  go  in  ;  I  dare  not  go  in  ;  if  I 
go  in  I  might  be  criticised  ;  O  Lord,  please  let  me  off?" 
"When  God  told  Ezekiel  to  go  in  he  went  in,  "  and  saw, 
and  behold  all  manner  of  creeping  things  and  abomin- 
able beasts."  I,  as  a  minister  of  religion,  felt  I  had  a 
Divine  commission  to  explore  the  iniquities  of  our 
cities.  I  did  not  ask  counsel  of  my  session,  or  my  Pres- 
bytery, or  of  the  newspapers,  but  asking  the  companion- 
ship of  three  prominent  police  officials  and  two  of  the 
elders  of  my  church,  I  unrolled  my  commission,  and 
it  said  :  "  Son  of  man,  dig  into  the  wall  ;  and  when  I 
had  digged  into  the  wall,  behold  a  door  ;  and  he  said, 
Go  in  and  see  the  wicked  abominations  that  are  done 
here  ;  and  I  went  in,  and  saw,  and  behold  !"  Brought 
up  in  the  country  and  surrounded  by  much  parental 
care,  I  had  not  until  this  autumn  seen  the  haunts  of 
iniquity.  By  the  grace  of  God  defended,  I  had  never 
29 


30       A  PERSONAL  EXPLORATION  IN  HAUNTS  OF  VICE. 


sowed  any  "  wild  oats."    I  had  somehow  been  able  to 
tell  from  various  sources  something  about  the  iniquities 
of  the  great  cities,  and  to  preach  against  them  ;  but  I 
saw,  in  the  destruction  of  a  great  multitude  of  the  peo- 
ple, that  there  must  be  an  infatuation  and  a  temptation 
that  had  never  been  spoken  about,  and  I  said,  "  I  will 
explore."    I  saw  tens  of  thousands  of  men  going  down, 
and  if  there  had  been  a  spiritual  percussion  answering  to 
the  physical  percussion,  the  whole  air  Would  have  been 
full  of  the  rumble,  and  roar,  and  crack,  and  thunder  of 
the  demolition,  and  this  moment,  if  we  should  pause  in 
our  service,  we  should  hear  the  crash,  crash  !    Just  as  in 
the  sickly  season  you  sometimes  hear  the  bell  at  the  gate 
of  the  cemetery  ringing  almost  incessantly,  so  I  found 
that  the  bell  at  the  gate  of  the  cemetery  where  lost  souls 
are  buried  was  tolling  by  day  and  tolling  by  night.  I 
said,  "  I  will  explore."    I  went  as  a  physician  goes  into 
a  small-pox  hospital,  or  a  fever  lazzaretto,  to  see  what 
practical  and  useful  information  I  might  get.  That 
would  be  a  foolish  doctor  who  would  stand  outside  the 
door  of  an  invalid  writing  a  Latin  prescription.  When 
the  lecturer  in  a  medical  college  is  done  with  his  lecture 
he  takes  the  students  into  the  dissecting  room,  and  he 
shows  them  the  reality.  I  am  here  this  morning  to  report 
a  plague,  and  to  tell  you  how  sin  dissects  the  body,  and 
dissects  the  mind,  and  dissects  the  soul.    "  Oh  !"  say 
you,  u  are  you  not  afraid  that  in  consequence  of  your 
exploration  of  the  inquities  of  the  city  other  persons 
may  make  exploration,  and  do  themselves  damage  ?"  I 
reply:    "If,  in  company  with   the   Commissioner  of 
Police,  and  the  Captain  of  Police,  and  the  Inspector  of 
Police,  and  the  company  of  two  Christian  gentlemen, 
and  not  with  the  spirit  of  curiosity,  but  that  you  may 
see  sin  in  order  the  better  to  combat  it,  then,  in  the  name 


A  PERSONAL   EXPIXXBATFON  IX  HAUNTS  OF  VICE.  31 


of  the  eternal  God,  go  ?  But,  if  not,  then  stay  away, 
"Wellington,  standing  in  the  battle  of  Waterloo  when 
the  bullets  were  buzzing  around  his  head,  saw  a  civilian 
on  the  field.  He  said  to  him,  fci  Sir,  what  are  you 
doing  here  I  Be  off  V9  "  Why,"  replied  the  civilian, 
"there  is  no  more  danger  here  for  me  than  there  is  for 
you."  Then  Wellington  flushed  up  and  said,  u  God  and 
my  country  demand  that  I  be  here,  but  you  have  no 
errand  here."  Now  I,  as  an  officer  in  the  army  of  Jesus 
Christ,  went  on  this  exploration,  and  on  to  this  battle- 
field. If  you  bear  a  like  commission,  go  ;  if  not, 
stay  away.  But  you  say,  "  Don't  you  think  that  some- 
how your  description  of  these  places  will  induce  people 
to  go  and  see  for  themselves  V  I  answer,  yes,  just  as 
much  as  the  description  of  the  yellow  fever  at  Grenada 
would  induce  people  to  go  down  there  and  get  the  pesti- 
lence. It  was  told  us  there  were  hardly  enough  people 
alive  to  bury  the  dead,  and  I  am  going  to  tell  you  a 
story  in  these  Sabbath  morning  sermons  of  places  where 
they  are  all  dead  or  dying.  And  I  shall  not  gild  iniqui- 
ties. I  shall  play  a  dirge  and  not  an  anthem,  and  while 
I  shall  not  put  faintest  blush  on  fairest  cheek,  I  will 
kindle  the  cheeks  of  many  a  man  into  a  conflagration, 
and  I  will  make  his  ears  tingle.  But  you  say,  "  Don't 
you  know  that  the  papers  are  criticising  you  for  the 
position  you  take?"  I  say,  yes  ;  and  do  you  know  how 
I  feel  about  it  !  There  is  no  man  who  is  more  indebted 
to  the  newspaper  press  than  I  am.  My  business  is  to 
preacli  the  truth,  and  the  wider  the  audience  the  news- 
paper press  gives  me,  the  wider  my  field  is.  As  the 
secular  and  religious  press  of  the  United  States  and  the 
Canadas,  and  of  England  and  Ireland  and  Scotland  and 
Australia  and  Xew  Zealand,  are  giving  me  every  week 
nearly  three  million  souls  for  an  audience,  I  say  I  am 


32       A  PERSONAL  EXPLORATION  IN  HAUNTS  OF  VICE. 


indebted  to  the  press,  anyhow.  Go  on  !  To  the  day  of 
my  death  I  cannot  pay  them  what  I  owe  them.  So  slash 
away,  gentlemen.  The  more  the  merrier.  If  there  is 
anything  I  despise,  it  is  a  dull  time.  Brisk  criticism  is 
a  coarse  Turkish  towel,  with  which  every  public  man 
needs  every  day  to  be  rubbed  down,  in  order  to  keep 
healthful  circulation.  Give  my  love  to  all  the  secular 
and  religious  editors,  and  full  permission  to  run  their 
steel  pens  clear  through  my  sermons,  from  introduction 
to  application. 

It  was  ten  o'clock  of  a  calm,  clear,  star-lighted  night 
when  the  carriage  rolled  with  us  from  the  bright  part  of 
the  city  down  into  the  region  where  gambling  and  crime 
and  death  hold  high  carnival.  When  I  speak  of  houses 
of  dissipation,  I  do  not  refer  to  one  sin,  or  five  sins,  but 
to  all  sins.  As  the  horses  halted,  and,  escorted  by  the 
officers  of  the  law,  we  went  in,  we  moved  into  a  world 
of  which  we  were  as  practically  ignorant  as  though  it 
had  swung  as  far  off  from  us  as  Mercury  is  from  Saturn. 
"No  shout  of  revelry,  no  guffaw  of  laughter, but  compar- 
ative silence.  Not  many  signs  of  death,  but  the  dead 
were  there.  As  I  moved  through  this  place  I  said, 
"This  is  the  home  of  lost  souls."  It  was  a  Dante's 
Inferno;  nothing  to  stir  the  mirth,  but  many  things  to 
fill  the  eyes  with  tears  of  pity.  Ah  !  there  were  moral 
corpses.  There  were  corpses  on  the  stairway, 
corpses  in  the  gallery,  corpses  in  the  gardens.  Leper 
met  leper,  but  no  bandaged  mouth  kept  back  the 
breath,  I  felt  that  I  was  sitting  on  the  iron  coast  against 
which  Euroclydon  had  driven  a  hundred  dismasted 
hulks — every  moment  more  blackened  hulks  rolling  in. 
And  while  I  stood  and  waited  for  the  going  down  of  the 
storm  and  the  lull  of  the  sea,  I  bethought  myself,  this 
is  an  everlasting  storm,  and  these  billows  always  rage, 


A  PERSONAL  EXPLORATION  IN  HAUNTS  OF  VICE.  33 


and  on  each  carcass  that  strewed  the  beach  already  had 
alighted  a  vulture — the  long-beaked,  filthy  vulture  of 
unending  dispair — now  picking  into  the  corruption,  and 
now  on  the  black  wing  wiping  the  blood  of  a  soul  ! 
lark,  no  robin,  no  chaffinch,  but  vultures,  vultures,  vul- 
tures. I  was  reading  of  an  incident  that  occurred  in 
Pennsylvania  a  few  weeks  ago,  where  a  naturalist  had 
presented  to  him  a  deadly  serpent,  and  he  put  it  in  a 
bottle  and  stood  it  in  his  studio,  and  one  evening, 
while  in  the  studio  with  his  daughter,  a  bat  flew  in  the 
window,  extinguished  the  light,  struck  the  bottle  con- 
taining the  deadly  serpent,  and  in  a  few  moments  there 
was  a  shriek  from  the  daughter,  and  in  a  few  hours  she 
was  dead.  She  had  been  bitten  of  the  serpent.  Amid 
these  haunts  of  death,  in  that  midnight  exploration  I 
saw  that  there  were  lions  and  eagles  and  doves  for  in- 
signia; but  I  thought  to  myself  how  inappropriate. 
Better  the  insignia  of  an  adder  and  a  bat. 

First  of  all,  I  have  to  report  as  a  result  of  this  raid- 
night  exploration  that  all  the  sacred  rhetoric  about  the 
costly  magnificence  of  the  haunts  of  iniquity  is  apocry- 
phal. We  were  shown  what  was  called  the  costliest  and 
most  magnificent  specimen.  I  had  often  heard  that  the 
walls  were  adorned  with  masterpieces;  that  the  fountains 
were  bewitching  in  the  gaslight;  that  the  music  was  like 
the  touch  of  a  Thalbergor  a  Gottschalk;  that  the  uphol- 
stery was  imperial;  that  the  furniture  in  some  places 
was  like  the  throne-room  or  the  Tuilleries.  It  is  all  false. 
Masterpieces!  There  was  not  a  painting  worth  S5,  leav- 
ing aside  the  frame.  Great  daubs  of  color  that  no 
intelligent  mechanic  would  put  on  his  wall.  A  cross- 
breed between  a  chromo  and  a  splash  of  poor  paint! 
Music!  Some  of  the  homeliest  creatures  I  ever  saw 
squawked  discord,  accompanied  by  pianos  out  of  tune! 
3 


34       A  PERSONAL  EXPLORATION  IN  HAUNTS  OF  VICE. 


Upholstery!  Two  characteristics;  red  and  cheap.  You 
have  heard  so  much  about  the  wonderful  lights — blue 
and  green  and  yellow  and  orange  flashing  across  the 
dancers  and  the  gay  groups.  Seventy-five  cents'  worth 
of  chemicals  would  produce  all  that  in  one  night.  Tinsel 
gewgaws,  tawdriness  frippery,  seemingly  much  of  it 
bought  at  a  second-hand  furniture  store  and  never  paid 
for!  For  the  most  part,  the  inhabitants  were  repulsive. 
Here  and  there  a  soul  on  whom  God  had  put  the  crown 
of  beauty,  but  nothing  comparable  with  the  Christian 
loveliness  and  purity  which  you  may  see  any  pleasant 
afternoon  on  any  of  the  thoroughfares  of  our  great  cities. 
Young  man,  you  are  a  stark  fool  if  you  go  to  places  of 
dissipation  to  see  pictures,  and  hear  music,  and  admire 
beautiful  and  gracious  countenances.  From  Thomas's,  or 
Dodworth's,  or  Gilmore's  Band,  in  ten  minutes  you  will 
hear  more  harmony  than  in  a  whole  year  of  the  racket 
and  bang  of  the  cheap  orchestras  of  the  dissolute.  Come 
to  me,  and  I  will  give  you  a  letter  of  introduction  to 
any  one  of  five  hundred  homes  in  Brooklyn  and  New 
York,  where  you  will  see  finer  pictures  and  hear  more 
beautiful  music— music  and  pictures  compared  with  which 
there  is  nothing  worth  speaking  of  in  houses  of  dissi- 
pation. Sin,  however  pretentious,  is  almost  always  poor. 
Mirrors,  divans,  Chickering  grand  she  cannot  keep.  The 
sheriff  is  after  it  with  uplifted  mallet,  ready  for  the  ven- 
due.   "  Going  !  going  !  gone  ! 

But,  my  friends,  I  noticed  In  all  the.  haunts  of  dissi- 
pation that  there  was  an  attempt  at  music,  however  poor. 
The  door  swung  open  and  shut  to  music;  they  stepped  to 
music;  they  danced  to  music;  they  attempted  nothing 
without  music,  and  I  said  to  myself,  "If  such  inferior 
music  has  such  power,  and  drum,  and  fife,  and  orchestra 
are  enlisted  in  the  service  of  the  devil,  what  multipotent 


A   PERSONAL  EXPLORATION  IN  HAUNTS  OF  VICE.  35 


power  there  must  be  in  music  !  and  is  it  not  high  time 
that  in  all  our  churches  and  reform  associations  we 
tested  how  much  charm  there  is  in  it  to  bring  men 
off  the  wrong  road  to  the  right  road?"  Fifty  times  that 
night  I  said  within  myself,  "  If  poor  music  is  so  power- 
ful in  a  bad  direction,  why  cannot  good  music  be  almost 
omnipotent  in  a  good  direction?"  Oh!  my  friends,  we 
want  to  drive  men  into  the  kingdom  of  God  with  a  mus- 
ical staff.  We  want  to  shut  off  the  path  of  death  with 
•a  musical  bar.  We  want  to  snatch  all  the  musical  instru- 
ments from  the  service  of  the  devil,  and  with  organ,  and 
cornet,  and  base  viol,  and  piano  and  orchestra  praise  the 
Lord.  Good  Richard  Cecil  when  seated  in  the  pulpit, 
said  that  when  Doctor  Wargan  was  at  the  organ,  he,  Mr. 
Cecil,  was  so  overpowered  with  the  music  that  he  found 
himself  looking  for  the  first  chapter  of  Isaiah  in  the 
prayer  book,  wondering  he  could  not  find  it.  Oh!  holy 
bewilderment.  Let  us  send  such  men  as  Phillip  Phillips, 
the  Christian  vocalist,  all  around  the  world,  and 
Arbuckle,  the  cornest,  with  his  "  Robin  Adair  "  set  to 
Christian  melody,  and  George  Morgan  with  his  Hallelu- 
ah  Chorus,  and  ten  thousand  Christian  men  with  up- 
lifted hosannas  to  capture  this  whole  earth  for  God.  Oh! 
my  friends,  we  have  had  enough  minor  strains  in  the 
church;  give  us  major  strains.  We  have  had  enough 
dead  marches  in  the  church;  play  us  those  tunes  which 
are  played  when  an  army  is  on  a  dead  run  to  overtake  an 
enemy.  Give  us  the  double-quick.  We  are  in  full 
gallop  of  cavalry  charge.  Forward,  the  whole  line! 
Many  a  man  who  is  unmoved  by  Christian  argument 
surrenders  to  a  Christian  song. 

Many  a  man  under  the  power  of  Christian  music  has 
had  a  change  take  place  in  his  soul  and  in  his  life  equal 
to  that  which  took  place  in  the  life  of  a  man  in  Scot- 


36       A  PERSONAL  EXPLORATION  IN  HAUNTS  OF  VICE. 

land,  who  for  fifteen  years  had  been  a  drunkard.  Com- 
ing home  late  at  night,  as  he  touched  the  doorsill,  his 
wife  trembled  at  his  coming.  Telling  the  story  after- 
ward, she  said,  "I  didn't  dare  go  to  bed  lest  he  violently 
drag  me  forth.  When  he  came  home  there  was  only 
about  the  half  inch  of  the  candle  left  in  the  socket. 
When  he  entered,  he  said:  'Where  are  the  children?' 
and  I  said,  'They  are  up  stairs  in  bed.'  He  said,  'Go 
and  fetch  them,'  and  I  went  up  and  I  knelt  down  and  I 
prayed  God  to  defend  me  and  my  children  from  their 
cruel  father.  And  then  I  brought  them  down.  He 
took  up  the  eldest  in  his  arms  and  kissed  her  and  said, 
'My  dear  lass,  the  Lord  hath  sent  thee  a  father  home  to- 
night.' And  so  he  did  with  the  second,  and  then  he 
took  up  the  third  of  the  children  and  said,  'My  dear  boy,, 
the  Lord  hath  sent  thee  home  a  father  to-night.'  And 
then  he  took  up  the  babe  and  said,  'My  darling  babe,  the' 
Lord  hath  sent  thee  home  a  father  to-night.'  And  then 
he  put  his  arm  around  me  and  kissed  me,  and  said,  'My 
dear  lass,  the  Lord  hath  sent  thee  home  a  husband 
to-night.'  Why,  sir,  I  had  na'  heard  anything  like  that 
for  fourteen  years.  And  he  prayed  and  he  was  com- 
forted, and  my  soul  was  restored,  for  1  didn't  live  as  I 
ought  to  have  lived,  close  to  God.  My  trouble  had 
broken  me  down."  Oh!  for  such  a  transformation  in 
some  of  the  homes  of  Brooklyn  to-day.  By  holy  con- 
spiracy, in  the  last  song  of  the  morning,  let  us  sweep 
every  prodigal  into  the  kingdom  of  our  God.  Oh!  ye 
chanters  above  Bethlehem,  come  and  hover  this  morning 
and  give  us  a  snatch  of  the  old  tune  about  "good  will  to 
men." 

But  I  have,  also  to  report  of  that  midnight  ex- 
ploration, that  I  saw  something  that  amazed  me  more 
than  I  can  tell.     I  do  not  want  to  tell  it,  for  it  will 


A  PERSONAL  EXPLORATION  IN  HAUNTS  OF  VICE.  37 


take  pain  to  many  hearts  tar  away,  and  1  cannot  comfort 
them.  But  I  must  tell  it.  In  all  these  haunts  of 
iniquity  I  found  young  men  with  the  ruddy  color  of 
country  health  on  their  cheek,  evidently  just  come  to 
town  for  business,  entering  stores,  and  shops,  and  offices. 
They  had  helped  gather  the  summer  grain.  There  they 
were  in  haunts  of  iniquity,  the  look  on  their  cheek  which 
is  never  on  the  cheek  except  when  there  has  been  hard 
work  on  the  farm  and  in  the  open  air.  Here  were  these 
young  men  who  had  heard  how  gayly  a  boat  dances  on 
the  edge  of  a  maelstrom,  and  they  were  venturing.  O 
God!  will  a  few  weeks  do  such  an  awful  work  for  a 
young  man?  O  Lord!  hast  thou  forgotten  what  trans- 
pired when  they  knelt  at  the  family  altar  that  morning 
when  he  came  away,  and  how  lather's  voice  trembled  in 
the  prayer,  and  mother  and  sister  sobbed  as  they  lay  on 
the  floor?  I  saw  that  young  man  when  he  first  con- 
fronted evil.  I  saw  it  was  the  first  night  there.  I  saw 
on  him  a  defiant  look,  as  much  as  to  say,  "I  am  mightier 
than  sin."  Then  I  saw  him  consult  with  iniquity. 
Then  I  saw  him  waver  and  doubt.  Then  I  saw  going 
over  his  countenance  the  shadow  of  sad  reflections,  and 
I  knew  from  his  looks  there  was  a  powerful  memory 
stirring  his  soul.  I  think  there  was  a  whisper  going 
out  from  the  gaudy  upholstery,  saying,  "My  son,  go 
home/'  I  think  there  was  a  hand  stretched  out  from 
under  the  curtains — a  hand  tremulous  with  anxiety,  a 
hand  that  had  been  worn  with  work,  a  hand  partly 
wrinkled  with  age,  that  seemed  to  beckon  him  away, 
and  so  goodness  and  sin  seemed  to  struggle  in  that 
jonng  man's  soul;  but  sin  triumphed,  and  he  surren- 
dered to  darkness  and  to  death — an  ox  to  the  slaughter. 
Oh!  my  soul,  is  this  the  end  of  all  the  good  advice?  Is 
this  the  end  of  all  the  prayers  that  have  been  made? 


38       A   PERSONAL  EXPLORATION  IN   HAUNTS  OF  VICE. 


Have  the  clusters  of  the  country  vineyard  been  thrown? 
into  this  great  wine-press  where  Despair  and  Anguish 
and  Death  trample,  and  the  vintage  is  a  vintage  of  blood?' 
I  do  not  feel  so  sorry  for  that  young  man  who,  brought 
up  in  city  life,  knows  beforehand  what  are  all  the  sur- 
rounding temptations;  but  God  pity  the  country  lad 
unsuspecting  and  easily  betrayed.     Oh!  young  man 
from  the  farmhouse  among  the  hills,  what  have  your 
parents  done  that  you  should  do  this  against  them? 
Why  are  you  bent  on  killing  with  trouble  her  who  gave, 
you  birth?    Look  at  her  fingers — what  makes  them  so 
distort?    Working  for  you.    Do  you  prefer  to  that  hon- 
est old  face  the  berouged  cheek  of  sin?    Write  home 
to-morrow  morning  by  the  first  mail,  cursing  your 
mother's  white  hair,  cursing  her  stooped  shoulder,  curs- 
ing her  old  arm-chair,  cursing  the  cradle  in  which  she 
rocked  you.    "Oh!"  you  say,  "I  can't,  I  can't."  You 
are  doing  it  already.    There  is  something  on  your  hands,, 
on  your  forehead,  on  your  feet.    It  is  red.    What  is  it? 
The  blood  of  a  mother's  broken  heart!    When  you  were 
threshing  the  harvest  apples  from  that  tree  at  the  corner 
of  the  field  lasc  summer,  did  yon  think  you  would, 
ever  come  to  this?    Did  you  think  that  the  sharp- 
sickle  of  death  would  cut  you  down  so  soon?    If  I 
thought  I  could  break  the  infatuation  I  would  corner 
down  from  the  pulpit  and  throw  my  arms  around  you 
and  beg  you  to  stop.    Perhaps  I  am  a  little  more  sym- 
pathetic with  such  because  I  was  a  country  lad.    It  was- 
not  until  fifteen  years  of  age  that  I  saw  a  great  city.  I 
remember  how  stupendous  New  York  looked  as  I  arrived 
at  Cortlandt  Ferry.    And  now  that  I  look  back  and 
remember  that  I  had  a  nature  all  awake  to  hilarities  and 
amusements,  it  is  a  wonder  that  I  escaped.    I  was  say- 
ing this  to  a  gentleman  in  New  York  a  few  days  ago* 


A  PERSONAL  EXPLORATION  IN  HAUNTS  OF  VICE.  39 


and  he  said,  "Ah!  sir,  I  guess  there  were  some  prayers 
hovering  about."  When  I  see  a  young  man  coming 
from  the  tame  life  of  the  country  and  going  down  in  the 
city  ruin,  I  am  not  surprised.  My  only  surprise  is  that 
any  escape,  considering  the  allurements.  I  was  a  few 
days  ago  on  the  St.  Lawrence  river,  and  I  said  to  the 
captain,  "What  a  swift  stream  this  is."  ''Ok!"  ke 
replied,  "  seventy-five  miles  from  kere  it  is  ten  times 
swifter.  Why,  we  have  to  employ  an  Indian  pilot,  and 
we  give  him  $1,000  for  his  summer's  work,  just  to  con- 
duct our  boats  through  between  the  rocks  and  the  islands, 
so  swift  are  the  rapids."  Well,  my  friends,  every  man  that 
comes  into  New  York  and  Brooklyn  life  comes  into  the 
rapids,  and  the  only  question  is  whether  he  shall  have 
safe  or  unsafe  pilotage.  Young  man,  your  bad  habits 
will  be  reported  at  the  homestead.  You  cannot  hide 
them.  There  are  people  who  love  to  carry  bad  news, 
and  there  will  be  some  accursed  old  gossip  who  will  wend 
her  infernal  step  toward  the  old  homestead,  and  she  will 
sit  down,  and,  after  she  has  a  while  wriggled  in  the 
chair,  she  will  say  to  your  old  parents,  "Do  you  know 
your  son  drinks?"  Then  your  parents  will  get  white 
about  the  lips,  and  your  mother  will  ask  to  have  the 
door  set  a  little  open  for  the  fresh  air,  and  before  that 
old  gossip  leaves  the  place  she  will  have  told  your  parents 
all  about  the  places  where  you  are  accustomed  to  go. 
Then  your  mother  will  come  out,  and  she  will  sit  down 
on  the  step  where  you  used  to  play,  and  she  will  cry  and 
cry.  Then  she  will  be  sick,  and  the  gig  of  the  country 
doctor  will  come  up  the  country  lane,  and  the  horse  will 
be  tied  at  the  swing-gate,  and  the  prescription  will  fail, 
and  she  will  get  worse  and  worse,  and  in  her  delirium 
she  will  talk  about  nothing  but  you.  Then  the  farmers 
will  come  to  the  funeral,  and  tie  the  horses  at  the  rail 


40       A  PERSONAL  EXPLORATION  IN  HAUNTS  OF  VICE. 


fence  about  the  house,  and  they  will  talk  about  what 
ailed  the  one  that  died,  and  one  will  say  it  was  inter- 
mittent, and  another  will  say  it  was  congestion,  and 
another  will  say  it  was  premature  old  age;  but  it  will  be 
neither  intermittent,  nor  congestion,  nor  old  age.  In  the 
ponderous  book  of  Almighty  God  it  will  be  recorded  for 
everlasting  ages  to  read  that  }tou  killed  her.  Our  lan- 
guage is  very  fertile  in  describing  different  kinds  of 
crime.  Slaying  a  man  is  homicide.  Slaying  a  brother 
is  fratricide.  Slaying  a  father  is  patricide.  Slaying  a 
mother  is  matricide.  It  takes  two  words  to  describe 
your  crime — patricide  and  matricide. 

I  must  leave  to  other  Sabbath  mornings  the  unrolling 
of  the  scroll  which  I  have  this  morning  only  laid  on 
your  table.  We  have  come  only  to  the  vestibule  of  the 
subject.  I  have  been  treating  of  generals.  I  shall  come 
to  specifics.  I  have  not  told  you  of  all  the  styles  of  peo- 
ple I  saw  in  the  haunts  of  iniquity.  Before  I  get 
through  with  these  sermons  and  next  Sabbath  morning 
I  will  answer  the  question  everywhere  asked  me,  why 
does  municipal  authority  allow  these  haunts  of  iniquity? 

I  will  show  all  the  obstacles  in  the  way.  Sirs,  before 
I  get  through  with  this  course  of  Sabbath  morning  ser- 
mons, by  the  help  of  the  eternal  God,  I  will  save  ten 
thousand  men!  And  in  the  execution  of  this  mission  I 
defy  all  earth  and  hell. 

But  I  was  going  to  tell  you  of  an  incident.  I  said  to 
the  officer,  "  Well,  let  us  go;  I  am  tired  of  this  scene;" 
and  as  we  passed  out  of  the  haunts  of  iniquity  into  the 
fresh  air,  a  soul  passed  in.  What  a  face  that  was!  Sor- 
row only  half  covered  up  with  an  assumed  joy.  It  was 
a  woman's  face.  I  saw  as  plainly  as  on  the  page  of  a 
book  the  tragedy.  You  know  that  there  is  such  a  thing 
as  somnambulism,  or  walking  in  one's  sleep.    Well,  in 


A  PERSONAL  EXPLORATION  IN  HAUNTS  OF  VICE.  41 

a  fatal  somnambulism,  a  soul  started  off  from  her  father's 
house.  It  was  very  dark,  and  her  feet  were  cut  of  the 
rocks;  but  on  she  went  until  she  came  to  the  verge  of  a 
chasm,  and  she  began  to  descend  from  bowlder  to 
bowlder  down  over  the  rattling  shelving — for  you  know 
while  walking  in  sleep  people  will  go  where  they  would 
not  go  when  awake.  Further  on  down,  and  farther, 
where  no  owl  of  the  night  or  hawk  of  the  day  would 
venture.  On  down  until  she  touched  the  depth  of  the 
chasm.  Then,  in  walking  sleep,  she  began  to  ascend 
the  other  side  of  the  chasm,  rock  above  rock,  as  the  roe 
boundeth.  Without  having  her  head  to  swim  with  the 
awful  steep,  she  scaled  the  height.  No  eye  but  the 
sleepless  eye  of  God  watched  her  as  she  went  down  one 
side  the  chasm  and  came  up  the  other  side  the  chasm. 
It  was  an  August  night,  and  a  storm  was  gathering,  and 
a  loud  burst  of  thunder  awoke  her  from  her  somnambu- 
lism, and  she  said,  "  Whither  shall  I  fly?"  and  with  an 
affrighted  eye  she  looked  back  upon  the  chasm  she  had 
crossed,  and  she  looked  in  front,  and  there  was  a  deeper 
chasm  before  her.  She  said,  "What  shall  I  do?  Must 
I  die  here?"  And  as  she  bent  over  the  one  chasm,  she 
heard  the  sighing  of  the  past;  and  as  she  bent  over  the 
other  chasm,  she  heard  the  portents  of  the  future.  Then 
she  sat  down  on  the  granite  crag,  and  cried:  uO!  for  my 
father's  house!  O!  for  the  cottage,  where  I  might  die 
amid  embowering  honeysuckle!  O!  the  past!  O!  the 
future!  O!  father!  oi  mother!  O!  God!"  But  the 
storm  that  had  been  gathering  culminated,  and  wrote 
with  finger  of  lightning  on  the  sky  just  above  the  hori- 
zon, ''The  way  of  the  transgressor  is  hard."  And  then 
thunder-peal  after  thunder-peal  uttered  it:  ""Which  for- 
saketh  the  guide  of  her  youth  and  forgetteth  the  cove- 
nant of  her  God.    Destroyed  without  remedy!"  And 


42       A    PERSONAL  EXPLORATION  IN  HAUNTS  OF  VICE. 

the  cavern  behind  echoed  it,  "  Destroyed  without  rem- 
edy!" And  the  chasm  before  echoed  it,  "Destroyed 
without  remedy!"  There  she  perished,  her  cut  and 
bleeding  feet  on  the  edge  of  one  chasm,  her  long  locks 
washed  of  the  storm  dripping  over  the  other  chasm. 

But  by  this  time  our  carriage  had  reached  the  curb- 
stone of  my  dwelling,  and  I  awoke,  and  behold  it  was  a 
dream ! 


THE  LEPERS  OF  HIUH  LIFE. 


CHAPTER  II. 

THE  LEPERS  OF  HIGH  LIFE. 
"Policeman,  what  of  the  night  ?" — Isaiah  xxi:  It 

The  original  of  the  text  may  be  translated  either 
"watchman  "  or  u  policeman."  I  have  chosen  the  latter 
word.  The  olden- time  cities  were  all  thus  guarded. 
There  were  roughs,  and  thugs,  and  desperadoes  in  Jeru- 
salem, as  well  as  there  are  in  New  York  and  Brooklyn. 
The  police  headquarters  of  olden  time  was  on  top  of  the 
city  wall.  King  Solomon,  walking  incognito  through 
the  streets,  reports  in  one  of  his  songs  that  he  met  these 
officials.  King  Solomon  must  have  had  a  large  posse  of 
police  to  look  after  his  royal  grounds,  for  he  had  twelve 
thousand  blooded  horses  in  his  stables,  and  he  had  mil- 
lions of  dollars  in  his  palace,  and  he  had  six  hundred 
wives,  and,  though  the  palace  was  large,  no  house  was 
ever  large  enough  to  hold  two  women  married  to  the 
same  man;  much  less  could  six  hundred  keep  the  peace. 
Well,  the  night  was  divided  into  three  watches,  the  first 
watch  reaching  from  sundown  to  10  o'clock;  the  second 
watch  from  10  o'clock  to  two  in  the  morning;  the  third 
watch  from  two  in  the  morning  to  sunrise.  An  Idumean, 
anxious  about  the  prosperity  of  the  city,  and  in  regard 
to  any  danger  that  might  threaten  it,  accosts  an  officer 
just  as  you  might  any  night  upon  our  streets,  saying,, 
"Policeman,  what  of  the  night?"  Policemen,  more 
than  any  other  people,  understand  a  city.     Upon  them. 


44 


THE  LEPERS  OF  HIGH  LIFE. 


are  vast  responsibilities  for  small  pay.  The  police  officer 
of  your  city  gets  $1,100  salary,  but  he  may  spend  only 
one  night  of  an  entire  month  in  his  family.  The  detect- 
ive of  your  city  gets  §1,500  salary,  but  from  January  to 
January  there  is  not  an  hour  that  he  may  call  his  own. 
Amid  cold  and  heat  and  tempest,  and  amid  the  perils  of 
the  bludgeon  of  the  midnight  assassin,  he  does  his  work. 
The  moon  looks  down  upon  nine-tenths  of  the  iniquity 
of  our  great  cities.  What  wonder,  then,  that  a  few 
weeks  ago,  in  the  interest  of  morality  and  religion,  I 
asked  the  question  of  the  text,  u  Policeman,  what  of  the 
night?"  In  addition  to  this  powerful  escortage,  I  asked 
two  elders  of  the  church  to  accompany  me;  not  because 
they  were  any  better  than  the  other  elders  of  the  church, 
but  because  they  were  more  muscular,  and  I  was  resolved 
that  in  any  case  where  anything  more  than  spiritual 
defense  was  necessary,  to  refer  the  whole  matter  to  their 
hands!  I  believe  in  muscular  Christianity.  I  wish  that 
our  theological  seminaries,  instead  of  sending  out  so 
many  men  with  dyspepsia  and  liver  complaint  and  all 
out  of  breath  by  the  time  they  have  climbed  to  the  top 
of  the  pulpit  stairs,  would,  through  gymnasiums  and 
other  means,  send  into  the  pulpit  physical  giants  as  well 
as  spiritual  athletes.  I  do  wish  I  could  consecrate  to  the 
Lord  two  hundred  and  fifty  pounds  avoirdupois  weight? 
But,  borrowing  the  strength  of  others,  I  started  out  on 
the  midnight  exploration.  I  was  preceded  in  this  work 
by  Thomas  Chalmers,  who  opened  every  door  of  iniquity 
in  Edinburgh  before  he  established  systematic  ameliora- 
tion, and  preceded  by  Thomas  Guthrie,  who  explored  all 
the  squalor  of  the  city  before  he  established  the  ragged 
schools,  and  by  every  man  who  has  done  any  thing  to 
balk  crime,  and  help  the  tempted  and  the  destroyed. 
Above  all,  I  followed  in  the  footsteps  of  Him  who  was 


THE  LEPERS  OF  HIGH  LIFE. 


45 


derided  by  the  hypocrities  and  the  sanhedrims  of  his 
day,  because  he  persisted  in  exploring  the  deepest  moral 
slush  of  his  time,  going  down  among  demoniacs  and 
paupers  and  adulteresses,  never  so  happy  as  when  lie 
had  ten  lepers  to  cure.  Some  of  you  may  have  been 
surprised  that  there  was  a  great  hue  and  cry  raised  be- 
fore these  sermons  were  begun,  and  sometimes  the  hue 
and  cry  was  made  by  professors  of  religion.  I  was  not  .sur- 
prised. The  simple  fact  is  that  in  all  our  churches  there 
are  lepers  who  do  not  want  their  scabs  touched,  and  they 
foresaw  that  before  I  got  through  with  this  series  of  ser- 
mons I  would  show  up  some  of  the  wickedness  and 
rottenness  of  what  is  called  the  upper  class.  The  devil 
howled  because  he  knew  I  was  going  to  hit  him  hard! 
Now,  I  say  to  all  such  men,  whether  in  the  church  or 
out  of  it,  M  Ye  hypocrites,  ye  generation  of  vipers,  how 
can  ye  escape  the  damnation  of  hell  ?" 

I  noticed  in  my  midnight  exploration  with  these  high 
officials  that  the  haunts  of  sin  are  chiefly  supported  by 
men  of  means  and  men  of  wealth.  The  young  men 
recently  come  from  the  country,  of  whom  I  spoke  last 
Sabbath  morning,  are  on  small  salary,  snd  they  have- 
but  little  money  to  spend  in  sin,  and  if  they  go  into  lux- 
uriant iniquity  the  employer  finds  it  out  by  the  inflamed 
eye  and  tiie  marks  of  dissipation,  and  they  are  discharged. 
The  luxuriant  places  of  iniquity  are  supported  by  men,, 
who  come  down  from  the  fashionable  avenues  of  Xew  York, 
and  cross  over  from  some  of  the  finest  mansions  of  Brook- 
lyn. Prominent  business  men  from  Boston,  Philadelphia, 
and  Chicago,  and  Cincinnati  patronize  these  places  of 
crime.  I  could  call  the  names  of  prominent  men  in 
our  cluster  of  cities  who  patronize  these  places  of  in- 
iquity, and  I  may  call  their  names  before  I  get  through 
this  course  of  sermons,  though  the  fabric  of  iSTew  York 


46 


THE  LEPERS  OF  HIGH  LIFE. 


and  Brooklyn  society  tumble  into  wreck.  Judges  of 
courts,  distinguished  lawyers,  officers  of  the  churchy 
political  orators  standing  on  Republican  and  Democratic 
and  Greenback  platforms  talking  about  God  and  good 
morals  until  you  might  suppose  them  to  be  evangelists 
expecting  a  thousand  converts  in  one  night.  Call  the 
roll  of  dissipation  in  the  haunts  of  iniquity  any  night, 
and  if  the  inmates  will  answer,  you  will  find  there  stock- 
brokers from  Wall  street,  large  importers  from  Broad- 
way, iron  merchants,  leather  merchants,  cotton  mer- 
chants, hardware  merchants,  wholesale  grocers,  repre- 
sentatives from  all  the  commercial  and  wealthy  classes. 
Talk  about  the  heathenism  below  Canal  street!  There 
is  a  worse  heathenism  above  Canal  street.  I  prefer 
that  kind  of  heathenism  which  wallows  in  filth  and  dis- 
gusts the  beholder  rather  than  that  heathenism  which 
covers  up  its  walking  putrefaction  with  camel's-hair 
shawl  and  point  lace,  and  rides  in  turnouts  worth  $3,000, 
liveried  driver  ahead  and  rosetted  flunky  behind.  "We 
have  been  talking  so  much  about  the  gospel  for  the 
masses;  now  let  us  talk  a  little  about  the  gospel  for  the 
lepers  of  society,  for  the  millionaire  sots,  for  the  portable 
lazzarettos  of  upper-tendom.  It  is  the  iniquity  that 
comes  down  from  the  higher  circles  of  society  that  sup- 
ports the  haunts  of  crime,  and  it  is  gradually  turning 
our  cities  into  Sodoms  and  Gomorrahs  waiting  for  the 
lire  and  brimstone  tempest  of  the  Lord  God  who 
whelmed  the  cities  of  the  plain.  We  want  about  five 
hundred  Anthony  Com  stocks  to  go  forth  and  explore 
and  expose  the  abominations  of  high  life.  For  eight  or 
ten  years  there  stood  within  sight  of  the  most  fashionable 
New  York  drive  a  Moloch  temple,  a  brown -stone  hell  on 
earth,  which  neither  the  Mayor,  nor  the  judges,  nor  the 
police  dared  touch,  when  Anthony  Comstock,  a  Christian 


THE  LEPERS  OF  HIGH  LTFE. 


47 


man  of  less  than  average  physical  stature,  and  with 
cheek  scarred  by  the  knife  of  a  desperado  whom  he  had 
arrested,  walked  into  that  palace  of  the  damned  on  Fifth 
avenue,  and  in  the  name  of  God  put  an  end  to 
to  it,  the  priestess  presiding  at  the  orgies  retreating  by 
suicide  into  the  lost  world,  her  bleeding  corpse  found  in 
her  own  bath-tub.  May  the  eternal  God  have  mercy  on 
our  cities.  Gilded  sin  comes  down  from  these  high 
places  into  the  upper  circles  of  iniquity,  and  then  on 
gradually  down,  until  in  five  years  it  makes  the  whole 
pilgrimage,  from  the  marble  pillar  on  the  brilliant 
avenue  clear  down  to  the  cellars  of  Water  street.  The 
officer  on  that  midnight  exploration  said  to  me:  "Look 
at  them  now,  and  look  at  them  three  years  from  now 
when  all  this  glory  has  departed;  they'll  be  a  heap  of 
rags  in  the  station-house."  Another  of  the  officers  said 
tome:  "  That  is  the  daughter  of  one  of  the  wealthiest 
families  on  Madison  square." 

But  I  have  something  more  amazing  to  tell  you  than 
that  the  men  of  means  and  wealth  support  these  haunts 
of  iniquity,  and  that  is,that  they  are  chiefly  supported 
by  heads  of  families — fathers  and  husbands,  with  the 
awful  perjury  of  broken  marriage  vows  upon  them,  with 
a  niggardly  stipend  left  at  home  for  the  support  of  their 
families,  going  forth  with  their  thousands  for  the  dia- 
monds and  wardrobe  and  equipage  of  iniquity.  In  the 
name  of  heaven,  I  denounce  this  public  iniquity.  Let 
such  men  be  hurled  out  of  decent  circles.  Let  them  be 
hurled  out  from  business  circles.  If  they  will  not 
repent,  overboard  with  them!  I  life  one-half  the  bur- 
den of  malediction  from  the  unpitied  head  of  offending 
woman,  and  hurl  it  on  the  blasted  pate  of  offending  man  ! 
Society  needs  a  new  division  of  its  anathema.  By  what 
law  of  justice  does  burning  excoriation  pursue  offending 


48 


THE  LEPERS  OF  HIGH  LIFE. 


woman  down  off  the  precipices  of  destruction,  while 
offending  man,  kid-gloved,  walks  in  refined  circles, 
invited  up  if  he  have  money,  advanced  into  political 
recognition,  while  all  the  doors  of  high  life  open  at  the 
first  rap  of  his  gold-headed  cane?  I  say,  if  you  let  one 
come  back,  let  them  both  come  back.  If  one  must  go 
down,  let  both  go  down.  I  give  you  as  my  opinion  that 
the  eternal  perdition  of  all  other  sinners  will  be  a  heaven 
compared  with  the  punishment  everlasting  of  that  man 
who,  turning  his  back  upon  her  whom  he  swore  to  pro- 
tect and  defend  until  death,  and  upon  his  children,  whose 
destiny  may  be  decided  by  his  example,  goes  forth  to 
seek  affectional  alliances  elsewhere.  For  such  a  man  the 
portion  will  be  fire,  and  hail,  and  tempest,  and  darkness, 
and  blood,  and  anguish,  and  despair  forever,  forever,  for- 
ever! My  friends,  there  has  got  to  be  a  reform  in  this 
matter,  or  American  society  will  go  to  pieces.  Under 
the  head  of  "  incompatibility  of  temper,"  nine-tenths  of 
the  abomination  goes  on.  What  did  you  get  married 
for  if  your  dispositions  are  incompatible?  "Oh!"  you 
say,  "I  rushed  into  it  without  thought  "  Then  you 
ought  to  be  willing  to  suffer  the  punishment  for  making 
a  fool  of  yourself  I  Incompatibility  of  temper!  You 
are  responsible  for  at  least  a  half  of  the  incompatibility 
Why  are  you  not  honest  and  willing  to  admit  either  that 
you  did  not  control  your  temper,  or  that  you  had  already 
broken  your  marriage  oath  ?  In  nine  hundred  and  ninety- 
nine  cases  out  of  the  thousand,  incompatibility  is  a 
phrase  to  cover  up  wickedness  already  enacted.  I  declare 
in  the  presence  of  this  city  and  in  the  presence  of  the 
world  that  heads  of  families  are  supporting  these  haunts 
of  iniquity.  I  wish  there  might  be  a  police  raid  lasting 
a  great  while,  that  they  would  just  go  down  through  all 
these  places  of  sin  and  gather  up  all  the  prominent  busi- 


THE  LEPERS  OF  HIGH  LIFE. 


49 


ness  men  of  the  city,  and  inarch  them  down  through  the 
street  followed  by  about  twenty  reporters  to  take  their 
names  and  put  them  in  full  capitals  in  the  next  day's 
paper!  Let  such  a  course  be  undertaken  in  our  cities, 
and  in  six  months  there  would  be  eighty  per  cent,  off 
your  public  crime.  It  is  not  now  the  young  men  ard 
the  boys  that  need  so  much  looking  after;  it  is  theU 
fathers  and  mothers.  Let  heads  of  families  cease  to  pat- 
ronize places  of  iniquity,  and  in  a  short  time  the}  would 
crumble  to  ruin. 

But  you  meet  me  with  the  question,  "Why  don't  the 
city  authorities  put  an  end  to  such  places  of  iniquity  r" 
I  answer  in  regard  to  Brooklyn,  the  work  has  already 
been  done.  Six  years  ago  there  were  in  the  radius  of 
your  City  Hall  thirty-eight  gambling  saloons.  They 
are  all  broken  up.  The  ivory  and  wooden  "chips" 
that  came  from  the  gambling-hells  into  the  Police  Head- 
quarters came  in  by  the  peck.  How  many  inducements 
were  offered  to  our  officials,  such  as:  "This  will  be  worth 
a  thousand  dollars  to  you  if  you  will  let  it  go  on."  "This 
will  be  worth  five  thousand  if  you  will  only  let  it  go  on." 
But  our  commissioners  of  police,  mightier  than  any 
bribe,  pursued  their  work  until,  while  beyond  the  city 
limits  there  may  be  exceptions,  within  the  city  limits  of 
Brooklyn  there  is  not  a  gambling-hell,  or  policy-shop, 
or  a  house  of  death  so  pronounced.  There  are  under- 
ground iniquities  and  hidden  scenes,  but  none  so  pro- 
nounced. Every  Monday  morning  all  the  captains  of 
the  police  make  reports  in  regard  to  their  respective  pre- 
cincts. When  the  work  began,  the  police  in  authoritv 
at  that  time  said:  "Oh!  it  cair t  be  done:  we  can't  eret 
into  these  places  of  iniquity  to  see  them,  and  hence  we 
can't  break  them  up."  "Then,"  said  the  commissioners 
of  police,  "break  in  the  doors;"  and  it  is  astonishing  how 
4 


60 


THE  LEPERS  OF  HIGH  LIFE. 


soon  ijter  the  shoulders  of  a  stout  policeman  goes  against 
the  dior,  it  gets  off  its  hinges.  Some  of  the  captains  of 
police  said:  "This  thing  has  been  going  on  so  long,  it 
cannot  he  crashed."  "Then,"  said  the  commissioners 
of  police,  "we'll  get  other  captains  of  police."  The 
work  went  on  until  now,  if  a  reformer  wants  the  com- 
missioners of  police  to  show  him  the  haunts  of  iniquity 
in  Brooklyn,  there  are  none  to  show  him.  If  you  know 
a  single  case  that  is  an  exception  to  what  I  say,  report 
it  to  me  at  the  close  of  this  service  at  the  foot  of  this 
plqSbrm,  and  I  will  warrant  that  within  two  hours  after 
you  .eport  the  case  Commissioner  Jourdan,  Superin- 
tendent Campbell,  Inspector  AVaddy,  and  as  many  of  the 
twenty-live  detectives  and  of  the  five  hundred  and  fifty 
policemen  as  are  necessary  will  come  down  on  it  like  an 
Alpine  avalanche.  If  yon  do  not  report  it,  it  is  because 
you  are  a  coward,  or  else  because  you  are  in  the  sin  your- 
self, and  you  do  not  want  it  shown  up.  You  shall  bear 
the  whole  responsibility,  and  it  shall  not  be  thrown  on 
the  hard-working  and  heroic  detective  and  police  force. 
But  you  say:  "How  has  this  general  clearing  out  of 
gambling-hells  and  places  of  iniquity  been  accom- 
plished?" Our  authorities  have  been  backed  up  by  a 
high  public  sentiment.  In  a  city  which  has  on  its  judi- 
cial bench  such  magnificent  men  as  Neilson,  and 
Reynolds,  and  McCue,  and  Moore,  and  Pratt,  and  others 
whom  I  am  not  fortunate  enough  to  know,  there  must 
be  a  mighty  impulse  upward  toward  Cod  and  good  mor- 
als. We  have  in  the  high  places  of  this  city  men  not 
only  with  great  heads,  but  with  great  hearts.  A  young 
man  disappeared  from  his  father's  house  about  the  time 
the  Brooklyn  Theater  burned,  and  it  was  supposed  that 
he  had  been  destroyed  in  that  ruin.  The  father,  broken- 
hearted, sold  his  property  in  Brooklyn,  and  in  desolation 


THE  LEPERS  OF  HIGH  LIFE. 


51 


left  the  city.  Recently  the  wandering  son  came  back. 
He  could  not  find  his  father,  who,  in  departing,  had 
given  no  idea  of  his  destination.  The  case  was  reported 
to  a  man  high  in  official  position,  and  he  sat  down  and 
wrote  a  letter  to  all  the  chiefs  of  police  in  the  United 
States,  in  order  that  he  might  deliver  that  prodigal  son 
into  the  arms  of  his  broken-hearted  father.  A  few  days 
ago  it  was  found  that  the  father  was  in  California.  I 
understand  that  son  is  now  on  the  way  to  meet  him,  and 
it  will  be  the  parable  of  the  prodigal  son  over  again 
when  they  embrace  each  other,  and  the  father  says: 
"Rejoice  with  me,  for  this  my  son  was  dead  and  is  alive 
again,  was  lost  and  is  found.''  I  have  forgotten  the 
uame  of  the  father,  I  have  forgotten  the  name  of  his  son; 
but  I  have  not  forgotten  the  name  of  the  officer  whose 
sympathetic  heart  beats  so  loud  under  his  badge  of  office. 
It  was  Patrick  Campbell,  Superintendent  of  the  Brook- 
lyn police.  I  do  not  mention  these  things  as  a  matter  of 
city  pride,  nor  as  a  matter  of  exultation,  but  of  gratitude 
to  God  that  Brooklyn  to-day  stands  foremost  among 
American  cities  in  its  freedom  from  places  of  iniquity. 
But  Brooklyn  has  a  larire  share  of  sin.  Where  do  the 
people  of  Brooklyn  go  when  they  propose  to  commit 
abomination?  To  New  York.  I  was  told  in  the  mid- 
night exploration  in  Xew  York  with  the  police  that 
there  are  some  places  almost  entirely  supported  by  men 
and  women  from  Brooklyn.  We  are  one  city  after  all — 
one  now  before  the  bridge  is  completed,  to  be  more 
thoroughly  one  when  the  bridge  is  done. 

Well,  then,  you  press  me  with  another  question :  uWhy 
don't  the  public  authorities  of  New  York  extirpate  these 
haunts  of  iniquity  ?"  Before  I  give  you  a  definite  answer 
I  want  to  say  that  the  obstacles  in  that  city  are  greater 
than  in  any  city  on  this  continent.    It  is  so  vast.    It  is 


52 


THE  LEPERS  OF  HIGH  LIFE. 


the  landing-place  of  European  immigration.  Its  wealth 
is  mighty  to  establish  and  defend  places  of  iniquity. 
Twice  a  year  there  are  incursions  of  people  from  all 
parts  of  the  land  coming  on  the  spring  and  the  fall  trade. 
It  requires  twenty  times  the  municipal  energy  to  keep 
order  in  New  York  that  it  does  in  any  city  from  Port- 
land to  San  Francisco.  But  still  you  pursue  me  with 
the  question,  and  I  am  to  answer  it  by  telling  you  that 
there  is  infinite  fault  and  immensity  of  blame  to  be 
divided  between  three  parties.  First,  the  police  of  New 
York  city.  So  far  as  I  know  them  they  are  courteous 
gentlemen.  They  have  had  great  discouragement,  they 
tell  me,  in  the  fact  that  when  they  arrest  crime  and 
bring  it  before  the  courts  the  witnesses  will  not  appear 
lest  they  criminate  themselves.  They  tell  me  also  that 
they  have  been  discouraged  by  the  tact  that  so  many 
suits  have  been  brought  against  them  for  damages.  But 
after  all,  my  friends,  they  must  take  their  share  of  blame. 
I  have  come  to  the  conclusion,  after  much  research  and 
investigation,  that  there  are  captains  of  police  in  New 
York  wTho  are  in  complicity  with  crime — men  who 
make  thousands  of  dollars  a  year  for  the  simple 
fact  that  they  will  not  tell,  and  will  permit  places  of 
iniquity  to  stand  month  after  month,  and  year  after  year. 
I  am  told  that  there  are  captains  of  police  in  New  York 
who  get  a  percentage  on  every  bottle  of  wine  sold  in  the 
haunts  of  death,  and  that  they  get  a  revenue  from  all  the 
shambles  of  sin.  What  a  state  of  things  this  is!  In  the 
Twenty-ninth  precinct  of  New  Yrork  there  are  one  hun- 
dred and  twenty-one  dens  of  death.  Night  after  night, 
month  after  month,  year  after  year,  untouched.  In  West 
Twenty-sixth  street  and  West  Twenty-seventh  street  and 
West  Thirty-first  street  there  are  whole  blocks  that  are 
a  pandemonium.    There  are  between  five  and  six  hun- 


THE  LEPERS  OF  HIGH  LIFE. 


53 


a/ed  dens  of  darkness  in  the  city  of  Xew  York,  where 
there  are  2.500  policemen.  Not  long  ago  there  was  a 
masquerade  ball  in  which  the  masculine  and  feminine 
offenders  of  society  were  the  participants,  and  some  of 
the  police  danced  in  the  masquerade  and  distributed  the 
prizes!  There  is  the  grandest  opportunity  that  has  ever 
opened, for  any  American. open  now.  It  is  for  that  man 
in  high  official  position  who  shall  get  into  his  stirrups 
and  say,  "Men,  follow ??'  and  who  shall  in  one  night 
sweep  around  and  take  all  of  these  leaders  of  iniquity, 
whether  on  suspicion  or  on  positive  proof,  saying,  "  I'll 
take  the  responsibility,  come  on!  I  put  my  private 
property  and  my  political  aspirations  and  my  life  into 
this  crusade  against  the  powers  of  darkness."  That  man 
would  be  Mayor  of  the  city  of  Xew  York.  That  man 
would  be  tit  to  be  President  of  the  United  States. 

But  the  second  part  of  the  blame  I  must  put  at  the 
door  of  the  District  Attorney  of  Xew  York.  I  under- 
stand he  is  an  honorable  gentleman,  but  he  has  not  time 
to  attend  to  all  these  cases.  Literally,  there  are  thousands 
of  cases  unpursued  for  lack  of  time.  Xow,  I  say,  it  is 
the  business  of  Xew  York  to  give  assistants,  and  clerks, 
and  help  to  the  District  Attorney  until  all  these  places 
shall  go  down  in  quick  retribution. 

But  the  third  part  of  the  blame,  and  the  heaviest  part 
of  it,  I  put  on  the  moral  and  Christian  people  of  our 
cities,  who  are  guilty  of  most  culpable  indifference  on 
this  whole  subject.  When  Tweed  stole  his  millions 
large  audiences  were  assembled  in  indignation,  Charles 
O'Conor  was  retained,  committees  of  safety  and  investi- 
gation were  appointed,  and  a  great  stir  made;  but  night 
by  night  there  is  a  theft  and  a  burglary  of  city  morals 
as  much  worse  than  Tweed's  robberies  as  his  were  worse 
than  common  shop-lifting,  and  it  has  very  little  opposi- 


54  THE  LEPERS  OF  HIGH  LIFE. 

tion.  I  tell  you  what  New  York  wants ;  it  wants  indig- 
nation meetings  in  Cooper  Institute  and  Academy  of 
Music  and  Chickering  and  Irving  Halls  to  compel  the 
public  authorities  to  do  their  work  and  to  send  the  police, 
with  clubs  and  lanterns  and  revolvers,  to  turn  off  the 
colored  lights  of  the  dance -houses,  and  to  mark  for  con- 
fiscation the  trunks  and  wardrobes  and  furniture  and 
scenery,  and  to  gather  up  all  the  keepers,  and  all  the  in- 
mates, and  all  the  patrons,  and  march  them  out  to  the 
Tombs,  fife  and  drum  sounding  the  Rogue's  March. 

While  there  are  men  smoking  their  cigarettes,  with 
their  feet  on  Turkish  divans,  shocked  that  a  minister  of 
religion  should  explore  and  expose  the  iniquity  of  city 
life,  there  are  raging  underneath  our  great  cities  a  Coto- 
paxi,  a  Stroniboli,a  Vesuvius,  ready  to  bury  us  in  ashes  and 
scoria  deeper  than  that  which  overwhelmed  Pompeii  and 
Herculaneum.  Oh!  I  wish  the  time  would  come  for  the 
plowshare  of  public  indignation  to  push  through  and 
rip  up  and  turn  under  those  parts  of  New  York  which 
are  the  plague  of  the  nation.  Now  is  the  time  to  hitch 
up  the  team  to  this  plowshare.  In  this  time,  when  Mr. 
Cooper  is  Mayor,  and  Mr.  Kelly  is  Comptroller,  and  Mr. 
Nichols  is  Police  Commissioner,  and  Superintendent 
Walling  wears  the  badge  of  office,  and  there  is  on  the 
judicial  benches  of  New  York  an  array  of  the  best  men 
that  have  ever  occupied  those  positions  since  the  founda- 
tion of  the  city — Recorder  Hackett,  Police  Magistrates 
Kilbreth,  Wandell,  Morgan  and  Duffy ;  such  men  as 
Gildersleeve,  and  Sutherland,  and  Davis,  and  Curtis  ; 
and  on  the  United  States  Court  bench  in  New  York 
such  men  as  Benedict,  and  Blatchford,  and  Choate — now 
is  the  time  to  make  an  extirpation  of  iniquity.  Now  is 
the  time  for  a  great  crusade,  and  for  the  people  of  our  cities 
in  great  public  assemblages  to  say  to  police  authority: 


THE  LEPEKS  OF  HIGH  LIFE. 


55 


"  Go  ahead,  and  we  will  back  you  with  our  lives,  our  for- 
tunes, and  our  sacred  honor." 

I  must  adjourn  until  next  Sabbath  morning  much  of 
what  I  wanted  to  say  about  certain  forms  of  iniquity 
which  I  saw  rampant  in  the  night  of  my  exploration 
with  the  city  officials.  But  before  I  stop  this  morning 
I  want  to  have  one  word  with  a  class  of  men  with  whom 
people  have  so  little  patience  that  they  never  get  a  kind 
word  of  invitation.  I  mean  the  men  who  have  forsaken 
their  homes.  Oh!  my  brother,  return.  You  say:  "I 
can't ;  I  have  no  home  ;  my  home  is  broken  up."  Re- 
establish your  home.  It  has  been  done  in  other  cases, 
why  may  it  not  be  done  in  your  case?  "  Oh,"  you  say, 
"  we  parted  for  life  ;  we  haVe  divided  our  property  ;  we 
have  divided  our  effects."  I  ask  you,  did  you  divide  the 
marriage  ring  of  that  bright  day  when  you  started  life 
together  ?  Did  you  divide  your  family  Bible?  If  so, 
where  did  you  divide  it 2  Across  the  Old  Testament, 
where  the  Ten  Commandments  denounce  your  sin,  or 
across  the  New  Testament,  where  Christ  says :  "  Blessed 
are  the  pure  in  heart?"  Or  did  you  divide  it  between 
the  Old  and  the  New  Testaments,  right  across  the  family 
record  of  weddings  and  births  and  deaths  ?  Did  you 
divide  the  cradle  in  which  you  rocked  your  first  born? 
Did  you  divide  the  little  grave  in  the  cemetery,  over 
which  you  stood  with  linked  arms,  looking  down  in  awful 
bereavement  ?  Above  all,  I  ask  you,  did  you  divide  your 
hope  for  heaven,  so  that  there  is  no  full  hope  left  for 
either  of  you?  Go  back!  There  maybe  a  great  gulf 
between  you  and  once  happy  domesticity;  but  Christ 
will  bridge  that  gulf.  It  may  be  a  bridge  of  sighs.  Turn 
toward  it.  Put  your  foot  on  the  over-arching  span. 
Hear  it !  It  is  a  voice  unrolling  from  the  throne:  "  He 
that  overcometh  shall  inherit  all  things,  and  I  will  be 


56 


THE  LEPERS  OF  HIGH  LIFE. 


unto  him  a  God,  and  he  shall  be  my  son ;  but  the  un- 
believing, and  the  sorcerers,  and  the  whoremongers,  and 
the  adulterers,  and  the  idolators,  and  all  liars  shall  have 
their  part  in  the  lake  which  burnetii  with  fire  and  brim, 
stone — which  is  the  second  deathP' 


THE  OATES  Oh  HELL. 


57 


CHAPTER  III. 
THE  GATES  OF  HELL. 

"The  gates  of  hell  shall  not  prevail  against  it. "-St.  Matthew  xvi :  18. 

;t  It  is  only  10  o'clock,"  said  the  officer  of  the  law,  as 
we  got  into  the  carriage  for  the  midnight  exploration — 
"  it  is  only  10  o'clock,  and  it  is  too  early  to  see  the  places 
that  we  wish  to  see,  for  the  theaters  have  not  yet  let  out." 
I  said,  "  What  do  you  mean  by  that  ?"  "  Well,"  he  said, 
44  the  places  of  iniquity  are  not  in  full  blast  until  the 
people  have  time  to  arrive  from  the  theaters."  So  we 
loitered  on,  and  the  officer  told  the  driver  to  stop  on  a 
street  where  is  one  of  the  costliest  and  most  brilliant 
gambling-houses  in  the  city  of  New  York.  As  we  came 
up  in  front  all  seemed  dark.  The  blinds  were  down  ; 
the  door  was  guarded  ;  but  after  a  whispering  of  the 
officer  with  the  guard  at  the  door,  we  were  admitted  into 
the  hall,  and  thence  into  the  parlors,  around  one  table 
finding  eight  or  ten  men  in  mid-life,  well-dressed — all 
the  work  going  on  in  silence,  save  the  noise  of  the 
rattling  "  chips  "  on  the  gaming-table  in  one  parlor,  and 
the  revolving  ball  of  the  roulette  table  in  the  other  par- 
lor. Some  of  these  men,  we  were  told,  had  served  terms 
in  prison;  some  were  ship-wrecked  bankers  and  brokers 
and  money-dealers,  and  some  were  going  their  first 
rounds  of  vice — but  all  intent  upon  the  table,  as  large  or 
small  fortunes  moved  up  and  down  before  them.  Oh! 
there  was  something  awfully  solemn  in  the  silence — the 
intense  gaze,  the  suppressed  emotion  of  the  players.  No 


58 


THE   GATES  OF  HELL. 


one  looked  up.    They  all  had  money  in  the  rapids,  and 
I  have  no  doubt  some  saw,  as  they  sat  there,  horses  and 
carriages,  and  houses  and  lands,  and  home  and  family 
rushing  down  into  the  vortex.    A  man's  life  would  not 
have  been  worth  a  farthing  in  that  presence  had  he  not 
been  accompanied  by  the  police,  if  he  had  been  supposed 
to  be  on  a  Christian  errand  of  observation.    Some  of 
these  men  went  by  private  key,  some  went  in  by  careful 
introduction,  some  were  taken  in  by  Vhe  patrons  of  the 
establishment.    The  officer  of  the  law  told  me:    "  None 
get  in  here  except  by  police  mandate,  or  by  some  letter 
of  a  patron.*'    While  we  were  there  a  young  man  came 
in,  put  his  money  down  on  the  roulette-table,  and  lost; 
put  more  money  down  on  the  roulette-table,  and  lost ; 
put  more  money  down  on  the  roulette- table,  and  lost; 
then  feeling  in  his  pockets  for  more  money,  finding  none, 
in  severe  silence  he  turned  his  back  upon  the  scene  and 
passed  out.    All  the  literature  about  the  costly  magnifi- 
cence of  such  places  is  untrue.    Men  kept  their  hats  on 
and  smoked,  and  there  was  nothing  in  the  upholstery  or 
the  furniture  to  forbid.    While  we  stood  there  men  lost 
their  property  and  lost  their  souls.    Oh !  merciless  place. 
Not  once  in  all  the  history  of  that  gaming-house  has 
there  been  one  word  of  sympathy  uttered  for  the  losers 
at  the  game.    Sir  Horace  Walpole  said  that  a  man 
dropped  dead  in  front  of  one  of  the  club-houses  of  Lon- 
don; his  body  was  carried  into  the  club-house,  and  the 
members  of  the  club  began  immediately  to  bet  as  to 
whether  he  were  dead  or  alive,  and  when  it  was  proposed 
to  test  the  matter  by  bleeding  him,  it  was  only  hindered 
by  the  suggestion  that  it  would  be  unfair  to  some  of  the 
players!    In  these  gaming-houses  of  our  cities,  men  have 
their  property  wrung  away  from  them,  and  then  they 
go  out,  some  of  them  to  drown  their  grief  in  strong 


THE  GATES  OF  HELL. 


drink,  some  to  ply  the  counterfeiter's  pen,  and  so  restore 
their  fortunes,  some  resort  to  the  suicide's  revolver,  but 
all  going  down,  and  that  work  proceeds  day  by  day,  and 
night  by  night,  until  it  is  estimated  that  every  day  in 
Christendom  eighty  million  dollars  pass  from  hand  to 
hand  through  gambling  practices,  and  every  year  in 
Christendom  one  hundred  and  twenty-three  billion,  one 
hundred  million  dollars  change  hands  in  that  way. 

"  But,"  I  said,  "  it  is  11  o'clock,  and  we  must  be  off." 
We  passed  out  into  the  hallway  and  so  into  the  street, 
the  burly  guard  slamming  the  door  of  the  house  after  us,, 
and  we  got  into  the  carriage  and  rolled  on  toward  the 
gates  of  hell.  You  know  about  the  gates  of  heaven. 
You  have  often  heard  them  preached  about.  There  are 
three  to  each  point  of  the  compass.  On  the  north,  three 
gates;  on  the  south,  three  gates;  on  the  east,  three 
gates;  on  the  west,  three  gates;  and  each  gate  is  of  solid 
pearl.  Oh !  gate  of  heaven ;  may  we  all  get  into  it.  But 
who  shall  describe  the  gates  of  hell  spoken  of  in  my  text? 
These  gates  are  burnished  until  they  sparkle  and  glisten 
in  the  gas-light.  They  are  mighty,  and  set  in  sockets 
of  deep  and  dreadful  masonry.  They  are  high,  so  that 
those  who  are  in  may  not  clamber  over  and  get  out. 
They  are  heavy,  but  they  swing  easily  in  to  let  those  go 
in  who  are  to  be  destroyed.  Well,  my  friends,  it  is 
always  safe  to  go  where  God  tells  you  to  go,  and  God 
had  told  me  to  go  through  these  gates  of  hell,  and  ex- 
plore and  report,  and,  taking  three  of  the  high  police 
authorities  and  two  of  the  elders  of  my  church,  I  went 
in,  and  I  am  here  this  morning  to  sketch  the  gates  of 
hell.  I  remember,  when  the  Franco-German  war  was 
going  on,  that  I  stood  one  day  in  Paris  looking  at  the 
gates  of  theTuilleries,  and  I  was  so  absorbed  in  the  sculp- 
turing at  the  top  of  the  gates — the  masonry  and  the 


60 


THE  GATES  OF  HELL. 


bronze — that  I  forgot  myself,  and  after  awhile,  looking 
down,  I  saw  that  there  were  officers  of  the  law  scrutinizing 
me,  supposing,  no  doubt,  I  was  a  German,  and  looking 
at  those  gates  for  adverse  purposes.  But,  my  friends, 
we  shall  not  stand  looking  at  the  outside  of  the  gates  of 
hell.  Through  this  midnight  exploration  I  shall  tell 
you  of  both  sides,  and  I  shall  tell  you  what  those  gates 
are  made  of.  With  the  hammer  of  God's  truth  I  shall 
pound  on  the  brazen  panels,  and  with  the  lantern  of 
God's  truth  I  shall  flash  a  light  upon  the  shining 
hinges. 

Gate  the  first:  Impure  literature.  Anthony  Com- 
stock  seized  twenty  tons  of  bad  books,  plates,  and  letter- 
press, and  when  our  Professor  Cochran,  of  the  Poly- 
technic Institute,  poured  the  destructive  acids  on  those 
plates,  they  smoked  in  the  righteous  annihilation.  And 
yet  a  great  deal  of  the  bad  literature  of  the  day  is  not 
gripped  of  the  law.  It  is  strewn  in  your  parlors;  it  is 
in  your  libraries.  Some  of  your  children  read  it  at  night 
after  they  have  retired,  the  gas-burner  swung  as  near  as 
possible  to  their  pillow.  Much  of  this  literature  is  un- 
der the  title  of  scientific  information.  A  book  agent 
with  one  of  these  infernal  books,  glossed  over  with  scien- 
tific nomenclature,  went  into  a  hotel  and  sold  in  one  day 
a  hundred  copies,  and  sold  them  all  to  women!  It  is 
appalling  that  men  and  women  who  can  get  through 
their  family  physician  all  the  useful  information  they 
may  need,  and  without  any  contamination,  should  wade 
chin  deep  through  such  accursed  literature  under  the 
plea  of  getting  useful  knowledge,  and  that  printing- 
presses,  hoping  to  be  called  decent,  lend  themselves  to 
this  infamy.  Fathers  and  mothers,  be  not  deceived  b}r 
the  title,  "medical  works."  Nine-tenths  of  those  books 
come  hot  from  the  lost  world,  though  they  may  have  on 


THE  GATES  OF  HELL. 


61 


them  the  names  of  the  publishing-houses  of  New  York 
and  Philadelphia.  Then  there  is  all  the  novelette  litera- 
ture of  tlie  day  flung  over  the  land  by  the  million.  As 
there  are  good  novels  that  are  long,  so  I  suppose  there 
may  be  good  novels  that  are  short,  and  so  there  may  be 
a  good  novelette,  but  it  is  the  exception.  No  one — mark 
this — no  one  systematically  reads  the  average  novelette 
of  this  day  and  keeps  either  integrity  or  virtue.  The 
most  of  these  novelettes  are  written  by  broken-down 
literary  men  for  small  compensation,  on  the  principle 
that,  having  failed  in  literature  elevated  and  pure,  they 
hope  to  succeed  in  the  tainted  and  the  nasty.  Oh!  this 
is  a  wide  gate  of  hell.  Every  panel  is  made  out  of  a  bad 
book  or  newspaper.  Every  hinge  is  theinterjoined  type 
of  a  corrupt  printing-press.  Every  bolt  or  lock  of  that 
gate  is  made  out  of  the  plate  of  an  unclean  pictorial.  In 
other  words,  there  are  a  million  men  and  women  in  the 
United  States  to-day  reading  themselves  into  hell !  When 
in  your  own  beautiful  city  a  prosperous  family  fell  into 
ruins  through  the  misdeeds  of  one  of  its  members,  the 
amazed  mother  said  to  the  officer  of  the  law:  k<  Why,  I 
never  supposed  there  was  anything  wrong.  I  never 
thought  there  could  be  anything  wrong."  Then  she  sat 
weeping  in  silence  for  some  time,  and  said:  u  Oh!  I 
have  got  it  now!  I  know,  I  now!  I  .found  in  her 
bureau  after  she  went  away  a  bad  book.  That's  what 
slew  her."  These  leprous  booksellers  have  gathered  up 
the  catalogues  of  all  the  male  and  female  seminaries  in 
the  United  States,  catalogues  containing  the  names  and 
the  residences  of  all  the  students,  and  circulars  of  death 
are  sent  to  every  one,  without  any  exception.  Can  you 
imagine  anything  more  deathful?  There  is  not  a  young 
person,  male  or  female,  or  an  old  person,  who  has  not 
had  offered  to  him  or  her  a  bad  book  or  a  bad  picture. 


62 


THE  GATES  OF  HELL. 


Scour  your  house  to  find  out  whether  there  are  any  of 
these  adders  coiled  on  jour  parlor  center-table,  or  coiled 
amid  the  toilet  set  on  the  dressing-case.  I  adjure  you 
before  the  sun  goes  down  to  explore  your  family  nbraries 
with  an  inexorable  scrutiny.  Remember  that  >ne  bad 
book  or  bad  picture  may  do  the  work  for  eternity.  I 
want  to  arouse  all  your  suspicions  about  novelettes.  I 
want  to  put  you  on  the  watch  against  everything  that 
may  seem  like  surreptitious  correspondence  through  the 
post'office.  I  want  you  to  understand  that  impure  litera- 
ture is  one  of  the  broadest,  highest,  mightiest  gates  of 
the  lost. 

Gate  the  second:  The  dissolute  dance.  You  shall  not 
divert  me  to  the  general  subject  of  dancing.  Whatever 
you  may  think  of  the  parlor  dance,  or  the  methodic  mo- 
tion of  the  body  to  sounds  of  music  in  the  family  or 
the  social  circle,  I  am  not  now  discussing  that  question. 
I  want  you  to  unite  with  me  this  morning  in  recogniz- 
ing the  fact  that  there  is  a  dissolute  dance.  You  know 
of  what  I  speak.  It  is  seen  not  only  in  the  low  haunts 
of  death,  but  in  elegant  mansions.  It  is  the  first  step  to 
eternal  ruin  for  a  great  multitude  of  both  sexes.  You 
know,  my  friends,  what  postures,  and  attitudes,  and  fig- 
ures are  suggested  of  the  devil.  They  who  glide  into 
the  dissolute  dance  glide  over  an  inclined  plane,  and  the 
dance  is  swifter  and  swifter,  wilder  and  wilder,  until 
with  the  speed  of  lightning  they  whirl  off  the  edges  of 
a  decent  life  into  a  fiery  future.  This  gate  of  hell  swings 
across  the  Axminster  of  many  a  fine  parlor,  and  across 
the  ball-room  of  the  summer  watering-place.  You  have 
no  right,  my  brother,  my  sister — you  have  no  right  to 
take  an  attitude  to  the  sound  of  music  which  would  be 
unbecoming  in  the  absence  of  music.  No  Ckickering 
grand  of  city  parlor  or  fiddle  of  mountain  picnic  can 
consecrate  that  which  (rod  hath  cursed. 


Til K  GATES  OF  HELL. 


63 


Gate  the  third:  Indiscreet  apparel.  The  attire  of 
woman  for  the  last  four  or  live  years  has  been  beautiful 
and  graceful  beyond  anything  I  have  known ;  but  there 
are  those  who  Will  always  carry  that  which  is  right  into 
the  extraordinary  and  indiscreet.  I  am  told  that  there 
is  a  fashion  about  to  come  in  upon  us  that  is  shocking 
to  all  righteousness.  I  charge  Christian  women,  neither 
by  style  of  dress  nor  adjustment  of  apparel,  to  become 
administrative  of  evil.  Perhaps  none  else  will  dare  to 
tell  you,  so  I  will  tell  you  that  there  are  multitudes  of 
men  who  owe  their  eternal  damnation  to  the  boldness 
of  womanly  attire.  Show  me  the  fashion-plates  of  any 
age  between  this  and  the  time  of  Louis  XVI.,  of  France, 
and  Henry  VIII.,  of  England,  and  I  will  tell  you  the 
type  of  morals  or  immorals  of  that  age  or  that  year. 
No  exception  to  it.  Modest  apparel  means  a  righteous 
people.  Immodest  apparel  always  means  a  contaminated 
and  depraved  society.  You  wonder  that  the  city  of  Tyre 
was  destroyed  with  such  a  terrible  destruction.  Have 
you  ever  seen  the  fashion-plate  of  the  city  of  Tyre?  I 
will  show  it  to  you: 

"  Moreover,  the  Lord  saith.  because  the  daughters  of  Zion  are 
haughty  and  walk  with  stretched-forth  necks  and  wanton  eyes,  walk- 
ing and  mincing  as  they  go,  and  making  a  tinkling  with  their  feet, 
in  that  day  the  Lord  will  take  away  the  bravery  of  their  tinkling 
ornaments  about  their  feel,  and  their  cauls,  and  their  round  tires  like 
the  moon,  the  rings  and  nose  jewels,  the  changeable  suits  of  apparel, 
and  the  mantles,  and  the  wimples,  and  the  crisping-pins." 

That  is  the  fashion-plate  of  ancient  Tyre.  And  do 
you  wonder  that  the  Lord  God  in  His  indignation 
blotted  out  the  city,  so  that  fishermen  to-day  spread  their 
nets  where  that  city  once  stood? 

Gate  the  fourth:  Alcoholic  beverage.  In  our  mid- 
night exploration  we  saw  that  all  the  scenes  of  wicked- 
ness were  under  the  enchantment  of  the  wine-cup.  That 


64 


THE  GATES  OF  HELL. 


was  what  the  waitresses  carried  on  the  platter.  That 
was  what  glowed  on  the  table.  That  was  what  shone  in 
illuminated  gardens.  That  was  what  flushed  the  cheeks 
of  the  patrons  who  came  in.  That  was  what  staggered 
the  step  of  the  patrons  as  they  went  out.  Oh!  the  wine- 
cup  is  the  patron  of  impurity.  The  officers  of  the  law 
that  night  told  us  that  nearly  all  the  men  who  go  into 
the  shambles  of  death  go  in  intoxicated,  the  mental  and 
the  spiritual  abolished,  that  the  brute  may  triumph. 
Tell  me  that  a  young  man  drinks,  and  I  know  the  whole 
story.  If  he  become  a  captive  of  the  wine-cup,  he  will 
become  a  captive  of  all  other  vices;  only  give  him  time. 
~No  one  ever  runs  drunkenness  alone.  That  is  a  car- 
rion-crow that  goes  in  a  flock,  and  when  you  see  that 
beak  ahead,  you  may  know  the  other  beaks  are  coming. 
In  other  words,  the  wine-cup  unbalances  and  dethrones 
one's  better  judgment,  and  leaves  one  the  prey  of  all  evil 
appetites  that  may  choose  to  alight  upon  his  soul. 
There  is  not  a  place  of  any  kind  of  sin  in  the  United 
States  to-day  that  does  not  find  its  chief  abettor  in  the 
chalice  of  inebriacy.  There  is  either  a  drinking-bar 
before,  or  one  behind,  or  one  above,  or  one  underneath. 
The  officers  of  the  law  said  to  me  that  night:  "These 
people  escape  legal  penalty  because  they  are  all  licensed 
to  sell  liquor."  Then  I  said  within  myself,  "The  courts 
that  license  the  sale  of  strong  drink,  license  gambling- 
houses,  license  libertinism,  license  disease,  license  death, 
license  all  sufferings,  all  crimes,  all  despoliations,  all 
disasters,  all  murders,  all  woe.  It  is  the  conrts  and  the 
Legislature  that  are  swinging  wide  open  this  grinding, 
creaky,  stupendous  gate  of  the  lost." 

But  you  say,  "You  have  described  these  gates  of  hell 
and  shown  us  how  they  swing  in  to  allow  the  entrance 
of  the  doomed.    Will  you  not,  please,  before  you  get 


THE  GATES  OF  HELL. 


65 


through  the  sermon,  tell  us  how  these  gates  of  hell  may 
swing  out  to  allow  the  escape  of  the  penitent?"  I  reply, 
but  very  few  escape.  Of  the  thousand  that  go  in  nine 
hundred  and  ninety-nine  perish.  Suppose  one  of  these 
wanderers  should  knock  at  your  door,  would  you  admit 
her?  Suppose  you  knew  where  she  came  from,  would 
you  ask  her  to  sit  down  at  your  dining-table?  Would 
you  ask  her  to  become  the  governess  of  your  children? 
Would  you  introduce  her  among  your  acquaintanceships? 
Would  you  take  the  responsibility  of  pulling  on  the  out- 
side of  the  gate  of  hell  while  she  pushed  on  the  inside  of 
that  gate  trying  to  get  out?  You  would  not,  not  one  of 
a  thousand  of  you  that  would  dare  to  do  it.  You  write 
beautiful  poetry  over  her  sorrows  and  wreep  over  her 
misfortunes,  but  give  her  practical  help  you  never  will. 
There  is  not  one  person  out  of  a  thousand  that  will — 
there  is  not  one  out  of  five  thousand  that  has — come  so 
near  the  heart  of  the  Lord' Jesus  Christ  as  to  dare  to 
help  one  of  these  fallen  souls.  But  you  say,  "Are  there 
no  ways  by  which  the  wanderer  may  escape?"  Oh,  yes; 
three  or  four.  The  one  way  is  the  sewing-girl's  garret, 
dingy,  cold,  hunger-blasted.  But  you  say,  "Is  there  no 
other  way  for  her  to  escape?"  Oh,  yes.  Another  way 
is  the  street  that  leads  to  the  East  river,  at  midnight,  the 
end  of  the  city  dock,  the  moon  shining  down  on  the 
water  making  it  look  so  smooth  she  wonders  if  it  is  deep 
enough.  It  is.  No  boatman  near  enough  to  hear  the 
plunge.  No  watchman  near  enough  to  pick  her  out 
before  she  sinks  the  third  time.  No  other  way?  Yes. 
By  the  curve  of  the  Hudson  River  Railroad  at  the  point 
where  the  engineer  of  the  lightning  express  train  cannot 
see  a  hundred  yards  ahead  to  the  form  that  lies  across 
the  track.  He  may  whistle  "down  brakes,"  but  not  soon 
enough  to  disappoint  the  one  who  seeks  her  death.  But 
5 


66 


THE  GATES  OF  HELL. 


you  say,  "Isn't  God  good,  and  won't  he  forgive?"  Yes; 
but  man  will  not,  woman  will  not,  society  will  not.  The 
church  of  God  says  it  will,  but  it  will  not.  Our  work, 
then,  must  be  prevention  rather  than  cure.  Standing  here 
telling  this  story  to-day,  it  is  not  so  much  in  the  hope  that 
I  will  persuade  one  who  has  dashed  down  a  thousand 
feet  over  the  rocks  to  crawl  up  again  into  life  and  light, 
but  it  is  to  alarm  those  who  are  coming  too  near  the 
edges.  Have  you  ever  listened  to  hear  the  lamentation 
that  rings  up  from  those  far  depths? 

"Once  I  was  pure  as  the  snow,  but  [  fell, 
Fell  like  a  snowflake,  from  heaven  to  hell ; 
Fell,  to  be  trampled  as  filth  of  the  street ; 
Fell,  to  be  scoffed  at,  be  spit  on,  and  beat. 
Pleading,  cursing,  begging  to  die, 
Selling  my  soul  to  whoever  would  buy ; 
Dealing  in  shame  for  a  morsel  of  bread, 
Hating  the  living  and  fearing  the  dead." 

But  you  say.  uWhat  can  be  the  practical  use  of  this 
course  of  sermons?"  I  say,  much  everywhere.  I  am 
greatly  obliged  to  those  gentlemen  of  the  press  who  have 
fairly  reported  what  I  have  said  on  these  occasions,  and 
the  press  of  this  city  and  New  York,  and  of  the  other 
prominent  cities.  I  thank  you- for  the  almost  universal 
fairness  with  which  you  have  presented  what  I  have  had 
to  say.  Of  course,  among  the  educated  and  refined 
journalists  who  sit  at  these  tables,  and  have  been  sitting 
here  for  four  or  five  years,  there  will  be  a  fool  or  two 
that  does  not  understand  his  business,  but  that  ought 
not  to  discredit  the  grand  newspaper  printing-press.  I 
thank  also,  those  who  have  by  letters  cheered  me  in  this 
work — letters  coming  from  all  parts  of  the  land,  from 
Christian  reformers  telling  me  to  go  on  in  the  work 
which  I  have  undertaken.  Never  so  many  letters  in  my 
life  have  I  received.    Perhaps  one  out  of  the  hundred 


THE  GATES  OF  HELL. 


67 


condemnatory,  as  one  I  got  yesterday  from  a  man  who 
said  he  thought  my  sermons  would  do  great  damage  in 
the  fact  that  they  would  arouse  the  suspicion  of  domestic 
circles  as  to  where  the  head  of  the  family  was  spending 
his  evenings!  I  was  sorry  it  was  an  anonymous  letter 
for  I  should  have  written  to  that  man's  wife  telling  her 
to  put  a  detective  on  her  husband's  track,  for  I  knew 
right  away  he  was  going  to  bad  places!  My  friends, 
you  say,  "  It  is  not  possible  to  do  anything  with  these 
stalwart  iniquities;  you  cannot  wrestle  them  down." 
Stupid  man,  read  my  text:  "The  gates  of  hell  shall  not 
prevail  against  the  church."  Those  gates  of  hell  are  to 
be  prostrated  just  as  certainly  as  God  and  the  Bible  are 
true,  but  it  will  not  be  done  until  Christian  men  and 
women,  quitting  their  prudery  and  squeamishness  in 
this  matter,  rally  the  whole  Christian  sentiment  of  the 
church  and  assail  these  great  evils  of  society.  The  Bible 
utters  its  denunciation  in  this  direction  again  and  again, 
and  yet  the  piety  of  the  day  is  such  a  namby-pamby, 
emetic  sort  of  a  thing  that  you  cannot  even  quote  Scrip- 
ture without  making  somebody  restless.  As  long  as 
this  holy  imbecility  reigns  in  the  church  of  God,  sin  will 
laugh  you  to  scorn.  I  do  not  know  but  that  before  the 
church  wakes  up  matters  will  get  worse  and  worse,  and 
that  there  will  have  to  be  one  lamb  sacrificed  from  each 
of  the  most  carefully-guarded  folds,  and  the  wave  of 
uncleanness  dash  to  the  spire  of  the  village  church  and 
the  top  of  the  cathedral  pillar.  Prophets  and  patriarchSj 
and  apostles  and  evangelists,and  Christ  himself  have  thun- 
dered against  these  sins  as  against  no  other,  and  yet  there 
are  those  who  think  we  ought  to  take,  when  we  speak  of 
these  subjects,  a  tone  apologetic.  I  put  my  foot  on  all 
the  conventional  rhetoric  on  this  subject,  and  I  tell  you 
plainly  that  unless  you  give  up  that  sin  your  doom  is 


68 


THE  GATES  OF  HELL. 


sealed,  and  world  without  end  you  will  be  chased  by  the 
anathemas  of  an  incensed  God.  I  rally  you  under  the 
cheerful  prophecy  of  the  text;  I  rally  you  to  a  besiege- 
ment  of  the  gates  of  hell.  We  want  in  this  besieg- 
ing host  no  soft  sentimentalists,  but  men  who  are  willing 
to  give  and  take  hard  knocks.  The  gates  of  Gaza  were 
carried  off,  the  gates  of  Thebes  were  battered  down,  the 
gates  of  Babylon  were  destroyed,  and  the  gates  of  hell 
are  going  to  be  prostrated.  The  Christianized  printing- 
press  will  be  rolled  up  as  the  chief  battering-ram.  Then 
there  will  be  a  long  list  of  aroused  pulpits,  which  shall 
be  assailing  fortresses,  and  God's  red-hot  truth  shall  be 
the  flying  ammunition  of  the  contest;  and  the  sappers 
and  the  miners  will  lay  the  train  under  these  foundations 
of  sin,  and  at  just  the  right  time  God,  who  leads  on  the 
fray,  will  cry,  "  Down  with  the  gates!"  and  the  explo- 
sion beneath  will  be  answered  by  all  the  trumpets  of  God 
on  high  celebrating  universal  victory.  But  there  may  be 
in  this  house  one  wanderer  that  would  like  to  have  a 
kind  word  calling  homeward,  and  I  cannot  sit  down  until 
I  have  uttered  that  word.  I  have  told  you  that  society 
has  no  mercy.  Did  I  hint,  at  an  earlier  point  in  this 
subject,  that  God  will  have  mercy  upon  any  wanderer 
who  would  like  to  come  back  to  the  heart  of  infinite 
love? 

A  cold  Christmas  night  in  a  farm-house.  Father 
comes  in  from  the  barn,  knocks  the  snow  from  his  shoes, 
and  sits  down  by  the  fire.  The  mother  sits  at  the  stand 
knitting.  She  says  to  him:  "  Do  you  remember  it  is 
anniversary  to-night?"  The  father  is  angered.  He  never 
wants  any  allusion  to  the  fact  that  one  had  gone  away, 
and  the  mere  suggestion  that  it  was  the  anniversary  of 
that  sad  event  made  him  quite  rough,  although  the  tears 
ran  down  his  cheeks.  The  old  house-dog,  that  had  played 


THE  GATES  OF  HELL. 


69 


with  the  wanderer  when  she  was  a  child,  came  up  and 
put  his  head  on  the  old  man's  knee,  but  he  roughly 
repulsed  the  dog.  He  wants  nothing  to  remind  him  of 
the  anniversary  day.  The  following  incident  was  told  me. 
It  was  a  cold  winter  night  in  a  city  church.  It  is  Christ- 
mas night.  They  have  been  decorating  the  sanctuary.  A 
lost  wanderer  of  the  street,  with  thin  shawl  about  her,  at- 
tracted by  the  warmth  and  light,  comes  in  and  sits  near 
the  door.  The  minister  of  religion  is  preaching  or'  Him 
who  was  wounded  for  our  transgressions,  and  bruised  for 
our  iniquities,  and  the  poor  soul  by  the  door  said:  "Why, 
that  must  mean  me;  'mercy  for  the  chief  of  sinners; 
bruised  for  our  iniquities  ;  wounded  for  our  transgres- 
sions.' "  The  music  that  night  in  the  sanctuary  brought 
back  the  old  hymn  which  she  used  to  sing  when  with 
father  and  mother  she  worshiped  God  in  the  village 
church.  The  service  over,  the  minister  went  down  the 
aisle.  She  said  to  him:  "  Were  those  words  for  me? 
*  Wounded  for  our  transgressions.'  Was  that  for  me?" 
The  man  of  God  understood  her  not.  He  knew  not 
how  to  comfort  a  shipwrecked  soul,  and  he  passed  on  and 
he  passed  out.  The  poor  wanderer  followed  into  the 
street.  "What  are  you  doing  here,  Meg?"  said  the 
police.  u  What  are  you  doing  here  to-night?"  "Oh!" 
she  replied,  "  I  was  in  to  warm  myself;"  and  then  the 
rattling  cough  came,  and  she  held  to  the  railing  until 
the  paroxysm  was  over.  She  passed  on  down  the  street, 
falling  from  exhaustion;  recovering  herself  again,  until 
after  a  while  she  reached  the  outskirts  of  the  city  and 
passed  on  into  the  country  road.  It  seemed  so  familiar, 
she  kept  on  the  road,  and  she  saw  in  the  distance  a  light 
in  the  window.  Ah!  that  light  had  been  gleaming  there 
every  night  since  she  went  away.  On  that  country 
road  she  passed  until  she  came  to  the  garden  gate.  She 


70 


THE  GATES  OF  HELL. 


opened  it  and  passed  up  the  path  where  she  played  in 
childhood.  She  came  to  the  steps  and  looked  in  at  the 
fire  on  the  hearth.  Then  she  put  her  fingers  to  the  latch. 
Oh!  if  that  door  had  been  locked  she  would  have  per- 
ished on  the  threshold,  for  she  was  near  to  death.  But 
that  door  had  not  been  locked  since  the  time  she  went 
away.  She  pushed  open  the  door.  She  went  in  and  laid 
down  on  the  hearth  by  the  fire.  The  old  house-dog 
growled  as  he  saw  her  enter,  but  there  was  something  in 
the  voice  he  recognized,  and  he  frisked  about  her  until 
he  almost  pushed  her  down  in 'his  joy.  In  the  morning 
the  mother  came  down,  and  she  saw  a  bundle  of  rags  on 
the  hearth;  but  when  the  face  was  uplifted,  she  knew  it, 
and  it  was  no  more  old  Meg  of  the  street.  Throwing 
her  arms  around  the  returned  prodigal,  she  cried,  "Oh! 
Maggie."  The  child  threw  her  arms  around  her  mother's 
neck,  and  said:  ''Oh!  Mother,"  and  while  they  were 
embraced  a  rugged  form  towered  above  them.  It  was 
the  father.  The  severity  all  gone  out  of  his  face,  he 
stooped  and  took  her  up  tenderly  and  carried  her  to 
mother's  room,  and  laid  her  down  on  mother's  bed,  for 
she  was  dying.  Then  the  lost  one,  looking  up  into  her 
mother's  face,  said:  "  'Wounded  for  our  transgressions 
and  bruised  for  our  iniquities!"  Mother,  do  you  think 
that  means  me  ?"  "  Oh,  yes,  my  darling,"  said  the 
mother,  "  if  mother  is  so  glad  to  get  you  back,  don't  you 
think  God  is  glad  to  get  you  back?"  And  there  she 
lay  dying,  and  all  her  dreams  and  all  her  prayers  were 
filled  with  the  words,  "Wounded  for  our  transgressions, 
bruised  for  our  iniquities,"  until  just  before  the  moment 
of  her  departure,  her  face  lighted  up,  showing  the  pardon 
of  God  had  dropped  upon  her  soul.  And  there  she  slept 
away  on  the  bosom  of  a  pardoning  Jesus.  So  the  Lord 
took  back  one  whom  the  world  rejected. 


WHOM  I  SAW,  AND  WHOM   I  MISSED. 


7] 


CHAPTER  IV. 

WHOM  I  SAW  AXD  WHOM  I  MISSED. 

"And  the  vale  of  Siddim.  was  full  of  slime-pits."—  Genesis  xiv-.  10. 
About  six  months  ago,  a  gentleman  in  Augusta,  Geor- 
gia, wrote  me  asking  me  to  preach  from  this  text,  and 
the  time  has  come  for  the  subject.  The  neck  of  an  army 
had  been  broken  by  falling  into  these  half-hidden  slime- 
pits.  How  deep  they  were,  or  how  vile,  or  how  hard  to 
get  out  of,  we  are  not  told;  but  the  whole  scene  is  so  far 
distant  in  the  past  that  we  have  not  half  as  much  inter- 
est in  this  statement  of  the  text  as  we  have  in  the 
announcement  that  our  American  cities  are  full  of  slime- 
pits,  and  tens  of  thousands  of  people  are  falling  in  them 
night  by  night.  Recently,  in  the  name  of  God,  I  ex- 
plored some  of  these  slime-pits.  Why  did  I  do  so?  In 
April  last,  seated  in  the  editorial  rooms  of  one  of  the 
chief  daily  newspapers  of  Xew  York,  the  editor  said  to 
me:  *'Mr.  Talmage,  you  clergymen  are  at  great  disad- 
vantage when  you  come  to  battle  iniquity,  for  you  don't 
know  what  you  are  talking  about,  and  we  laymen  are 
aware  of  the  fact  that  you  don't  know  of  what  you  are 
talking;  now,  if  you  would  like  to  make  a  personal  inves- 
tigation, I  will  see  that  you  shall  get  the  highest  official 
escort."  I  thanked  him,  accepted  the  invitation,  and 
told  him  that  this  autumn  I  would  begin  the  tour.  The 
fact  was  that  I  had  for  a  long  time  wanted  to  say  some 
words  of  warning  and  invitation  to  che  young  men  of 
this  country,  and  I  felt  if  my  course  of  sermons  was 
preceded  by  a  tour  of  this  sort  I  should  not  only  be  bet- 


72 


WHOM  I  SAW,  AND  WHOM  I  MISSED. 


ter  acquainted  with  the  subject,  but  I  should  have  the 
whole  country  for  an  audience;  and  it  has  been  a  delib- 
erate plan  of  my  ministry,  whenever  I  am  going  to  try 
to  do  anything  especial  for  God,  or  humanity,  or  the 
church,  to  do  it  in  such  a  way  that  the  devil  will  always 
advertise  it  free  gratis  for  nothing!  That  was  the  reason 
I  gave  two  weeks'  previous  notice  of  my  pulpit  inten- 
tions.   The  result  has  been  satisfactory. 

Standing  within  those  purlieus  of  death,  under  the 
command  of  the  police  and  in  their  company,  I  was  as 
much  surprised  at  the  people  whom  I  missed  as  at  the 
people  whom  I  saw.  I  saw  bankers  there,  and  brokers 
there,  and  merchants  there,  and  men  of  all  classes  and 
occupations  who  have  leisure,  there;  but  there  was  one 
class  of  persons  that  I  missed.  I  looked  for  them  all 
up  and  down  the  galleries,  and  amid  the  illumined 
gardens,  and  all  up  and  down  the  staircases  of  death. 
I  saw  not  one  of  them.  I  mean  the  hard-working  classes, 
the  laboring  classes,  of  our  great  cities.  You  tell  me 
they  could  not  afford  to  go  there.  They  could.  Entrance, 
twenty-five  cents.  They  could  have  gone  there  if  they 
had  a  mind  to;  but  the  simple  fact  is  that  hard  work  is 
a  friend  to  good  morals.  The  men  who  toil  from  early 
morn  until  late  at  night  when  they  go  home  are  tired 
out,  and  want  to  sit  down  and  rest,  or  to  saunter  out  with 
their  families  along  the  street,  or  to  pass  into  some  quiet 
place  of  amusement  where  they  will  not  be  ashamed  to 
take  wife  or  daughter.  The  busy  populations  of  these 
cities  are  the  moral  populations.  I  observed  on  the 
night  of  our  exploration  that  the  places  of  dissipation 
are  chiefly  supported  by  the  men  who  go  to  business  at 
9  and  10  o?clock  in  the  morning  and  get  through  at  3 
and  4  in  the  afternoon.  They  have  plenty  of  time  to  go 
to  destruction  in  and  plenty  of  money  to  buy  a  through 


WHOM  I  SAW,  AND   WHOM  I  MISSED. 


73 


ticket  on  the  Grand  Trunk  Railroad  to  perdition,  stop- 
ping at  no  depot  until  they  get  to  the  eternal  smash-up! 
Those  are  the  fortunate  and  divinely-blessed  young  men 
who  have  to  breakfast  early  and  take  supper  late,  and 
have  the  entire  interregnum  filled  up  with  work  that  blis- 
ters the  hands,  and  makes  the  legs  ache  and  the  brain 
weary.  There  is  no  chance  for  the  morals  of  that  young 
man  who  has  plenty  of  money  and  no  occupation.  You, 
may  go  from  Central  Park  to  the  Battery,  or  you  may 
go  from  Fulton  Street  Ferry,  Brooklyn,  out  to  South 
Bushwick,  or  out  to  Hunter's  Point,  or  out  to  Gowanus, 
and  you  will  not  find  one  young  man  of  that  kind  who 
has  not  already  achieved  his  ruin,  or  who  is  not  on  the 
way  thereto  at  the  rate  of  sixty  miles  the  hour.  Those  are 
not  the  favored  and  divinely-blessed  young  men  who 
come  and  go  as  they  will,  and  who  have  their  pocket- 
case  full  of  the  best  cigars,  and  who  dine  at  Delmonico's, 
and  who  dress  in  the  tip- top  of  fashion,  their  garments 
a  little  tighter  or  looser  or  broader  striped  than  others, 
their  mustaches  twisted  with  stiffer  cosmetic,  and  their 
hair  redolent  with  costly  pomatum,  and  have  their  hat 
set  farthest  over  on  the  right  ear,  and  who  have  boots 
fitting  the  foot  with  exquisite  torture,  and  who  have 
handkerchief  soaked  with  musk,  and  patchouli,  and  white 
rose,  and  new-mown  hay,  and  "balm  of  a  thousand  flow- 
ers;'' but  those  are  the  fortunate  young  men  who  have 
to  work  hard  for  a  living.  Give  a  young  man  plenty  of 
wines,  and  plenty  of  cigars,  and  plenty  of  fine  horses, 
and  Satan  has  no  anxiety  about  that  man's  coming  out 
at  his  place.  He  ceases  to  watch  him,  only  giving  direc- 
tions about  his  reception  when  he  shall  arrive  at  the  end 
of  the  journey.  If,  on  the  night  of  our  exploration,  I 
had  called  the  roll  of  all  the  laboring  men  of  these  cities, 
I  would  have  received  no  answer,  for  the  simple  reason 


74 


WHOM  I  SAW,  AND  WHOM  I  MISSED. 


they  were  not  there  to  answer.  I  was  not  more  surprised 
at  the  people  whom  I  saw  there  than  I  was  surprised  at 
the  people  whom  I  missed.  Oh!  man,  if  you  have  an 
occupation  by  which  you  are  wearied  every  night  of  your 
life,  thank  God,  for  it  is  the  mightiest  preservative 
against  evil. 

But  by  that  time  the  clock  of  old  Trinity  Church  was 
striking  one,  two,  three,  four,  five,  six,  seven,  eight,  nine, 
"ten,  eleven,  twelve — midnight !  And  with  the  police  and 
two  elders  of  my  church  we  sat  down  at  the  table  in  the 
galleries  and  looked  off  upon  the  vortex  of  death.  The 
music  in  full  blast;  the  dance  in  wildest  whirl;  the  wine 
foaming  to  the  lip  of  the  glass.  Midnight  on  earth  is 
mid  noon  in  hell.  All  the  demons  of  the  pit  were  at 
that  moment  holding  high  carnival.  The  blue  calcium 
light  suggested  the  burning  brimstone  of  the  pit.  Seated 
there,  at  that  hour,  in  that  awful  place,  you  ask  me,  as  I 
have  frequently  been  asked,  "What  were  the  emotions 
that  went  through  your  heart?"  And  I  shall  give  the 
rest  of  my  morning's  sermon  to  telling  you  how  I  felt. 

First  of  all,  as  at  no  death-bed  or  railroad  disaster  did 
I  feel  an  overwhelming  sense  of  pity.  Why  were  we 
there  as  Christian  explorers,  while  those  lost  souls  were 
there  as  participators?  If  they  had  enjoyed  the  same 
healthful  and  Christian  surroundings  which  we  have  had 
all  our  days,  and  we  had  been  thrown  amid  the  contamin- 
ations which  have  destroyed  them,  the  case  would  have 
been  the  reverse,  and  they  would  have  been  the  specta- 
tors and  we  the  actors  in  that  awful  tragedy  of  the 
damned.  As  I  sat  there  I  could  not  keep  back  the 
tears — tears  of  gratitude  to  God  for  his  protecting 
grace — tears  of  compassion  for  those  who  had  fallen  so 
low.  The  difference  in  moral  navigation  had  been  the 
difference  in  the  way  the  wind  blew.    The  wind  of  temp- 


WHOM  I  SAW,  AND  WHOM  I  MISSED. 


75 


tation  drove  them  on  the  rocks.  The  wind  of  God's 
mercy  drove  us  out  on  a  fair  sea.  There  are  men  and 
women  so  merciless  in  their  criticism  of  the  fallen  that 
you  might  think  that  God  had  made  them  in  an  especial 
mold,  and  that  they  have  no  capacity  for  evil,  and  yet  if 
they  had  been  subjected  to  the  same  allurements,  instead 
of  stopping  at  the  up- town  haunts  of  iniquity,  they 
wo  aid  at  this  hour  have  been  wallowing  amid  the  hor- 
rors of  Arch  Block,  or  shrieking  with  delirium  tremens 
in  the  cell  of  a  police  station.  Instead  of  boasting  over 
your  purity  and  your  integrity  and  your  sobriety,  you 
had  better  be  thanking  God  for  his  grace,  lest  sometime 
the  Lord  should  let  you  loose  and  you  find  out  how 
much  better  you  are  than  others  naturally.  I  will  take 
the  best-tempered  man  in  this  house,  the  most  honest 
man  in  this  city,  and  I  will  venture  the  opinion  in  regard 
to  him  that,  surround  him  with  all  the  adequate  circum- 
stances of  temptation,  and  the  Lord  let  him  loose,  he 
would  become  a  thief,  a  gambler,  a  sot,  a  rake,  a  wharf- 
rat.  Instead  of  boasting  over  our  superiority,  and  over 
the  fact  that  there  is  no  capacity  in  us  of  evil,  I  would 
rather  have  for  my  epitaph  that  one  word  which  Duncan 
Matthewson,  the  Scotch  evangelist,  ordered  chiseled  on 
his  tombstone,  the  name,  and  the  one  word,  "Kept." 

Again :  Seated  in  that  gallery  of  death,  and  looking 
out  on  that  maelstrom  of  iniquity,  I  thought  to  myself, 
"There!  that  young  man  was  once  the  pride  of  the  city 
home.  Paternal  care  watched  him ;  maternal  love  bent 
over  him;  sisterly  affection  surrounded  him.  He  was 
once  taken  to  the  altar  and  consecrated  in  the  name 
of  the  Father,  and  of  the  Son,  and  of  the  Holy 
Ghost;  but  he  went  away.  This  very  moment,0 
I  thought  to  myself,  there  are  hearts  aching  for  that 
young  man's  return.    Father  and  mother  are  sitting  up 


76 


WHOM  I  SAW,  AND  WHOM  I  MISSED. 


for  him."  You  say,  "He  lias  a  night-key,  and  he  can 
get  in  without  their  help.  Why  do  not  'those  parents 
go  sound  to  sleep?"  What!  Is  there  any  sleep  for 
parents  who  suspect  a  son  is  drifting  up  and  down  amid 
the  dissipations  of  a  great  city  ?  They  may  weep,  they 
may  pray,  they  may  wring  their  hands,  but  sleep  they 
cannot.  All!  they  have  done  and  suffered  too  much  for 
that  boy  to  give  him  up  now.  They  turn  up  the  light 
and  look  at  the  photograph  of  him  when  he  was  young 
and  untempted.  They  stand  at  the  window  to  see  if  he 
is  coming  up  the  street.  They  hear  the  watchman's 
rattle,  but  no  sound  of  returning  boy.  I  felt  that  night 
as  if  I  could  put  my  hand  on  the  shoulder  of  that  young 
man,  and,  with  a  voice  that  would  sound  all  through 
those  temples  of  sin,  say  to  him,  "Go  home,  young  man; 
your  father  is  waiting  for  you.  Your  mother  is  waiting 
for  you.  God  is  waiting  for  you.  All  heaven  is  wait- 
ing for  you.  Go  home!  By  the  tears  wept  over  your 
waywardness,  by  the  prayers  offered  for  your  salvation, 
by  the  midnight  watching  over  you  when  you  had  scarlet 
fever  and  diphtheria,  by  the  blood  of  the  Son  of  God,  by 
the  judgment  day  when  you  must  give  answer  for  what 
you  have  been  doing  here  to-night,  go  home!"  But  I  did 
not  say  this,  lest  it  interfere  with  my  work,  and  I  waited 
to  get  on  this  platform,  where,  perhaps,  instead  of  saving 
one  young  man,  God  helping  me,  I  might  save  a  thousand 
young  men;  and  the  cry  of  alarm  which  I  suppressed 
that  night,  I  let  loose  to-day  in  the  hearing  of  this 
people. 

Seated  in  that  gallery  of  death,  and  looking  off  upon 
the  destruction,  I  bethought  myself  also,  "These  are 
the  fragments  of  broken  homes."  A  home  is  a  com- 
plete thing,  and  if  one  member  of  it  wander  off,  then  the 
home  is  broken.    And  sitting  there,  I  said:  "Here  they 


WHOM  I  SAW,  AND  WHOM  I  MISSED.  77 

are,  broken  family  altars,  broken  wedding-rings,  broken 
vows,  broken  anticipations,  broken  hearts."  And,  as  I 
looked  off,  the  dance  became  wilder  and  more  unre- 
strained, until  it  seemed  as  if  the  floor  broke  through 
and  the  revelers  were  plunged  into  a  depth  from  which 
they  may  never  rise,  and  all  these  broken  families  came 
around  the  brink  and  seemed  to  cry  out:  "  Come  back, 
father!  Come  back,  mother!  Come  back,  my  son!  Come 
back,  my  daughter !  Come  back,  my  sister !"  But  no  voices 
returned,  and  the  sound  of  the  feet  of  the  dancers  grew 
fainter  and  fainter,  and  stopped,  and  there  was  thick 
darkness.  And  I  said,  "What  does  all  this  mean?" 
And  there  came  up  a  great  hiss  of  whispering  voices, 
saying,  "  This  is  the  second  death!" 

But  seated  there  that  night,  looking  off  upon  that 
scene  of  death,  I  bethought  myself  also,  "  This  is  only  a 
miserable  copy  of  European  dissipations."  In  London 
they  have  what  they  call  the  Argyle,  the  Cremorne,  the 
Strand,  the  beer-gardens,  and  a  thousand  places  of 
infamy,  and  it  seems  to  be  the  ambition  of  bad  people 
in  this  country  to  copy  those  foreign  dissipations.  Toady- 
ism when  it  bows  to  foreign  pretense  and  to  foreign 
equipage  and  to  foreign  title  is  despicable;  but  toadyism 
is  more  despicable  when  it  bows  to  foreign  vice.  Why, 
you  might  as  well  steal  the  pillow-ease  of  a  small-pox 
hospital,  or  the  shovels  of  a  scavenger's  cart,  or  the 
cofiin  of  a  leper,  as  to  make  theft  of  these  foreign  plagues. 
If  you  want  to  destroy  the  people,  have  some  originality 
of  destruction ;  have  an  American  trap  to  catch  the 
bodies  and  souls  of  men,  instead  of  infringing  on  the 
patented  inventions  of  European  iniquity. 

Seated  there  that  night,  I  also  felt  that  if  the  good 
people  of  our  cities  knew  what  was  going  on  in  these 
haunts  of  iniquity,  they  would  endure  it  no  longer. 


78  WHOM  I  SAW,   AND  WHOM  I  MISSED. 


The  foundations  of  city  life  are  rotten  with  iniquity, 
and  if  the  foundations  give  way  the  whole  structure 
must  crumble.  If  iniquity  progresses  in  the  next  one 
hundred  years  in  the  same  ratio  that  it  has  pro- 
gressed in  the  century  now  closed,  there  will  not  be 
a  vestige  of  moral  or  religious  influence  left.  It  is  only 
a  question  of  subtraction  and  addition.  If  the  people 
knew  how  the  virus  is  spreading  they  would  stop  it.  I 
think  the  time  has  come  for  action.  I  wish  that  the  next 
Mayor  of  New  York  whether  he  be  Augustus  Schell  or 
Edward  Cooper,  may  rise  up  to  the  height  of  this  posi- 
tion. Revolution  is  what  we  want,  and  that  revolution 
would  begin  to-morrow  if  the  moral  and  Christian  peo- 
ple of  our  cities  knew  of  the  fires  that  slumber  beneath 
them.  Once  in  a  while  a  glorious  city  missionary  or 
reformer  like  Mr.  Brace  or  Mr.  Yan  Meter  tells  to  a 
well-dressed  audience  in  church  the  troubles  that  lie 
under  our  roaring  metropolis,  and  the  conventional 
church-goer  gives  his  five  dollars  for  bread,  or  gives  his 
fifty  dollars  to  help  support  a  ragged  school,  and  then 
goes  home  feeling  that  the  work  is  done.  Oh!  my 
friends,  the  work  will  not  be  accomplished  until  by  the 
force  of  public  opinion  the  officers  of  the  law  shall  be 
compelled  to  execute  the  law.  "We  are  told  that  the 
twenty-five  hundred  police  of  New  York  cannot  put 
down  the  five  or  six  hundred  dens  of  infamy,  to  say 
nothing  of  the  gambling-houses  and  the  unlicensed  grog- 
shops. I  reply,  swear  me  in  as  a  special  police  and  give 
me  two  hundred  police  for  two  nights,  and  I  would 
break  up  all  the  leading  haunts  of  iniquity  in  these  two 
cities,  and  arrest  all  their  leaders  and  send  such  conster- 
nation in  the  smaller  places  that  they  would  shut  up  of 
themselves!  I  do  not  think  I  should  be  afraid  of  law- 
suits for  damages  for  false  imprisonment.     What  we 


WHOM  I  SAW,  AND  WHOM  I  MISSED. 


79 


want  in  these  cities  is  a  Stonewall  Jackson's  raid  through 
all  the  places  of  iniquity.  I  was  persuaded  by  what  I 
saw  on  that  night  of  my  exploration  that -the  keepers  of 
all  these  haunts  of  iniquity  are  as  afraid  as  they  are  of 
death  of  the  police  star,  and  the  police  club,  and  the 
police  revolver.  Hence,  I  declare  that  the  existence  of 
these  abominations  are  to  be  charged  either  to  police 
cowardice  or  to  police  complicity. 

At  the  close  of  our  journey  that  night,  we  got  in  the 
carriage,  and  we  came  out  on  Broadway,  and  as  we  came 
down  the  street  everything  seemed  silent  save  the  clatter- 
ing  hoofs  and  the  wheels  of  our  own  conveyance.  Look- 
ing down  the  long  line  of  gaslights,  the  pavement  seemed 
very  solitary.  The  great  sea  of  metropolitan  life  had 
ebbed,  leaving  a  dry  beach!  New  York  asleep!  No!  no! 
Burglary  wide  awake.  Libertinism  wide  awake.  Mur- 
der wide  awake.  Ten  thousand  city  iniquities  wide 
awake.  The  click  of  the  decanters  in  the  worst  hours  of 
the  debauch.  The  harvest  of  death  full.  Eternal  woe 
the  reaper. 

What  is  that  I  Trinity  clock  striking,  one — two. 
"Good  night/'  said  the  officers  of  the  law,  and  I  re- 
sponded "good  night,"  for  they  had  been  very  kind,  and 
very  generous  and  very  helpful  to  us.  "Good  night." 
And  yet,  was  there  ever  an  adjective  more  misapplied  \ 
Good  night!  Why,  there  was  no  expletive  enough 
scarred  and  blasted  to  describe  that  night.  Black  night. 
Forsaken  night.  Night  of  man's  wickedness  and  woman's 
overthrow.  Night  of  awful  neglect  on  the  part  of  those 
who  might  help  but  do  not.  For  many  of  those  whom 
we  had  been  watching,  everlasting  night.  No  hope. 
No  rescue.  No  God.  Black  night  of  darkness  forever. 
As  far  off  as  hell  is  from  heaven  was  that  night  distant 
from  being  a  good  night.    Oh,  my  friends,  what^are  you 


80 


WHOM  I  SAW,  AND  WHOM  I  MISSED. 


going  to  do  in  this  matter  ?  Punish  the  people  ?  That 
is  not  my  theory.  Prevent  the  people,  warn  the  people, 
hinder  the  people  before  they  go  down.  The  first  phi- 
lanthropist this  country  ever  knew  was  Edward  Living- 
ston, and  he  wrote  these  remarkable  words  in  1833: 

"  As  prevention  in  the  diseases  of  the  body  is  less  painful,  less  ex- 
pensive, and  more  efficacious  than  the  most  skillful  cure,  so  in  the 
moral  maladies  of  society,  to  arrest  the  vicious  before  the  profligacy 
assumes  the  shape  of  crime,  to  take  away  from  the  poor  the  cause  or 
pretense  of  relieving  themselves  by  fraud  or  theit,  to  reform  them  by 
education,  and  make  their  own  industry  contribute  to  their  support, 
although  difficult  and  expensive,  will  be  found  more  effectual  inthe 
suppression  of  offenses,  and  more  economical,  than  the  best  organized 
system  of  punishment." 

Next  Sabbath  morning  I  shall  tell  you  of  my  second 
night  of  exploration.  I  have  only  opened  the  door  of 
this  great  subject  with  which  I  hope  to  stir  the  cities. 
I  have  begun,  and,  God  helping  me,  I  will  go  through. 
Whoever  else  may  be  crowded  or  kept  standing,  or  kept 
outside  the  doors,  I  charge  the  trustees  and  the  ushers 
of  this  church  that  they  give  full  elbow-room  to  all  these 
journalists,  since  each  one  is  another  church  five  times, 
or  ten  times,  or  twenty  times  larger  than  this  august 
assemblage,  and  it  is  by  the  printing-press  that  the  Gos- 
pel of  the  Son  of  God  is  to  be  yet  preached  to  all  the 
world.  May  the  blessing  of  the  Lord  God  come  down 
upon  all  the  editors,  and  all  the  reporters,  and  all  the 
compositors,  and  all  the  proof-readers,  and  all  the  type- 
setters ! 

But,  my  friends,  before  the  iniquities  of  our  cities 
are  closed,  my  tongue  may  be  silent  in  death,  and 
many  who  are  here  this  morning  may  have  gone  so  far 
in  sin  they  cannot  get  back.  You  have  sometimes  been 
walking  on  the  banks  of  a  river,  and  you  have  seen  a 
man  struggling  in  the  water,  and  you  have  thrown  off 


WHOM  I  SAW,  AND  WHOM  I  MISSED.  81 

your  coat  and  leaped  in  for  the  rescue.    So  this  morning 
I  throw  off  the  robe  of  pulpit  conventionality,  and  I 
plunge  in  for  your  drowning  soul.    I  have  no  cross 
words  for  you.    I  have  only  cross  words  for  those  who 
would  destroy  you.    I  am  glad  God  has  not  put  in  my 
hand  any  one  of  the  thunderbolts  of  His  power,  lest  I 
might  be  tempted  to  hurl  it  at  those  who  are  plotting 
your  ruin.    I  do  not  give  you  the  tip  end  of  the  lo  g 
fingers  of  the  left  hand,  but  I  take  your  hand,  hot  with 
the  fever  of  indulgences  and  trembling  with  last  night's 
debauch,  into  both  my  hands,  and  give  the  heartiest 
grip  of  invitation  and  welcome.    "  Oh,"  you  say,  "  you 
would  not  shake  hands  with  me  if  you  met  me."  I 
would.    Try  me  at  the  foot  of  this  platform  and  see  if  I 
will  not.    I  have  sometimes  said  that  I  would  like  to  die 
with  my  hand  in  the  hand  of  my  family  and  my  kin- 
dred; but  I  revoke  that  wish  this  morning  and  say  I 
would  like  to  die  with  my  hand  in  the  hand  of  a  return- 
ing sinner,  when,  with  God's  help,  I  am  trying  to  pull 
him  up  into  the  glorious  liberty  of  the  Gospel.    I  would 
like  that  to  be  my  last  work  on  earth.    Oh!  my  brother, 
come  back!    Do  you  know  that  God  made  Richard  Bax- 
ters and  John  Bunyans  and  Robert  Newtonsout  of  such 
as  you  are?    Come  back!  and  wash  in  the  deep  fountain 
of  a  Savior's  mercy.    I  do  not  give  you  a  cup,  or  a  chal- 
ice, or  a  pitcher  with  a  limited  supply  to  effect  your  ab- 
lutions.   I  point  you  to  the  five  oceans  of  God's  mercy. 
Oh!   that  the  Atlantic  and  Pacific  surges  of  divine  for- 
giveness might  roll  over  your  soul.    I  do  not  say  to  you, 
as  we  said  to  the  officers  of  the  law  when  we  left  them 
on  Broadway,  ''Good  night."    Oh,  no.    But,  as  the 
glorious  sun  of  God's  forgiveness  rides  on  toward  the 
mid  heavens,  ready  to  submerge  you  in  warmth  and 
light  and  love,  I  bid  you  good  morning!    Morn^g  of 
6 


82 


WHOM  T   SAW,    AND  WHOM  T  MTSSED. 


peace  for  all  jour  troubles.  Morning  of  liberation  for 
all  your  incarcerations.  Morning  of  resurrection  for 
jour  soul  buried  in  sin.  Good  morning!  Morning  for 
the  resuscitated  household  that  has  been  waiting  for 
jour  return.  Morning  for  the  cradle  and  the  crib 
alreadj  disgraced  with  being  that  of  a  drunkard's  child. 
Morning  for  the  daughter  that  has  trudged  off  to  hard 
work  because  3*011  did  not  take  care  of  home.  Morning 
for  the  wife  who  at  forty  or  fifty  jears  has  the  wrinkled 
face,  and  the  stooped  shoulder,  and  the  white  hair.  Morn- 
ing for  one.  Morning  for  all.  Good  morning  !  In 
God's  name,  good  morning. 

In  our  last  dreadful  war  the  Federals  and  the  Con- 
federates were  encamped  on  opposite  sides  of  the  Rappa- 
hannock, and  one  morning  the  brass  band  of  the  North- 
ern troops  plajed  the  national  air,  and  all  the  Northern 
troops  cheered  and  cheered.  Then  on  the  opposite  side 
of  the  Rappahannock  the  brass  band  of  the  Confederates 
played  Mj  Maryland"  and  "  Dixie,"  and  then  all  the 
Southern  troops  cheered  and  cheered.  But  after  awhile 
one  of  the  bands  struck  up  "  Home,  Sweet  Home,"  and 
the  band  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  river  took  up  the 
strain,  and  when  the  tune  was  done  the  Confederates 
and  the  Federals  all  together  united,  as  the  tears  rolled 
down  their  cheeks,  in  one  great  huzza!  huzza!  Well, 
my  friends,  heaven  comes  very  near  to-daj.  It  is  only 
a  stream  that  divides  us — the  narrow  stream  of  death — 
and  the  voices  there  and  the  voices  here  seem  to  com- 
mingle, and  we  join  trumpets,  aud  hosannahs,  and  halle- 
lujahs, and  the  chorus  of  the  united  song  of  earth  and 
heaven  is,  "  Home,  Sweet  Home."  Home  of  bright 
domestic  circle  on  earth.  Home  of  forgiveness  in  the 
great  heart  of  God.  Home  of  eternal  rest  in  heaven. 
Home!    Home!  Home! 


CHAPTER  Y. 


UNDER  THE  POLICE  LANTERN. 

The  destruction  of  the  poor  is  their  poverty. — Proverbs  x :  15. 

On  an  island  nine  miles  long  by  two  and  a  half  wide 
stands  the  largest  city  on  this  continent — a  city  mightiest 
for  virtue  and  for  vice.  Before  I  get  through  with  this 
6eries  of  Sabbath  morning  discourses,  I  shall  show  you 
the  midnoon  of  its  magnificent  progress  and  philan- 
thropy, as  well  as  the  midnight  of  its  crime  and  sin. 
Twice  in  every  twenty-four  hours  our  City  Hall  and  old 
Trinity  clocks  strike  twelve  —  once  while  business  and 
art  are  in  full  blast,  and  once  while  iniquity  is  doing  its 
uttermost.  Both  stories  must  be  told.  It  is  pleasanter 
to  put  on  a  plaster  than  to  thrust  in  a  probe;  but  it  is 
absurd  to  propose  remedies  for  disease  until  we  have 
taken  a  diagnosis  of  that  disease.  The  patient  may 
squirm  and  cringe,  and  fight  back,  and  resist;  but  the 
surgeon  must  go  on.  Before  I  get  through  with  these 
Sabbath  morning  sermons,  I  shall  make  you  all  smile  at 
the  beautiful  things  I  will  say  about  the  grandeur  and 
beneficence  of  this  cluster  of  cities;  but  my  work  now  is 
excavation  and  exposure.  I  have  as  much  amusement 
as  any  man  of  my  profession  can  afford  to  indulge  in  at 
any  one  time,  in  seeing  some  of  the  clerical  "reformers" 
of  this  day  mount  their  war- charger,  dig  in  their  spurs, 
and  with  glittering  lance  dash  down  upon  the  iniquities 
of  cities  that  have  been  three  or  four  thousand  years 
dead.  These  men  will  corner  an  old  sinner  of  twenty  or 
thirty  centuries  ago,  and  scalp  him,  and  hang  him,  and 
83 


; 


84 


UNDER  THE  POLICE  LANTERN. 


cut  him  to  pieces,  and  then  say:  "  Oh!  what  great  things 
have  been  done."  With  amazing  prowess,  they  throw 
sulphur  at  Sodom,  and  fire  at  Gomorrah,  and  worms  at 
Herod,  and  pitch  Jezebel  over  the  wall,  but  wipe  off  their 
gold  spectacles,  and  put  on  their  best  kid  gloves,  and 
unroll  their  morocco-covered  sermon,  and  look  bashful 
when  they  begin  to  speak  about  the  sins  of  our  day,  as 
though  it  were  a  shame  even  to  mention  them.  The 
hypocrites!  They  are  afraid  of  the  libertines  and  the 
men  who  drink  too  much,  in  their  churches,  and  those 
who  grind  the  face  of  the  poor.  Better,  I  say,  clear  out 
all  our  audiences  from  pulpit  to  storm-door,  until  no  one 
is  left  but  the  sexton,  and  he  staying  merely  to  lock  up, 
than  to  have  the  pulpit  afraid  of  the  pew.  The  time  has 
come  when  the  living  Judases  and  Herods  and  Jezebels 
are  to  be  arraigned.  There  is  one  thing  I  like  about  a 
big  church;  a  dozen  people  may  get  mad  about  the  truth 
and  go  off,  and  you  don't  know  they  are  gone  until  about 
the  next  year.  The  cities  standing  on  the  ground  are 
the  cities  to  be  reformed,  and  not  the  Herculaneums 
buried  under  volcanic  ashes,  or  the  cities  of  the  plain 
fifty  feet  under  the  Dead  Sea. 

I  unroll  the  scroll  of  new  revelations.  With  city  mis- 
sionary, and  the  police  of  New  York  and  Brooklyn,  I 
have  seen  some  things  that  I  have  not  yet  stated  in  this 
series  of  discourses  on  the  night  side  of  city  life.  The 
night  of  which  I  speak  now  is  darker  than  any  other. 
No  glittering  chandelier,  no  blazing  mirror  adorns  it.  It 
is  the  long,  deep  exhaustive  night  of  city  pauperism. 
"We  won't  want  a  carriage  to-night,"  said  the  detectives. 
aA  carriage  would  hinder  us  in  our  work;  a  carriage 
going  through  the  streets  where  we  are  going  would  only 
bring  out  the  people  to  see  what  was  the  matter."  So  on 
foot  we  went  up  the  dark  lanes  of  poverty.  Everything 


UNDER  THE  POLICE  LANTERN. 


85 


revolting  to  eye,  and  ear,  and  nostril.  Population  un- 
washed, uncombed.  Rooms  unventilated.  Three  mid- 
nights overlapping  each  other — midnight  of  the  natural 
world,  midnight  of  crime,  midnight  of  pauperism.  Stairs 
oozing  with  filth.  The  inmates,  nine-tenths  of  the  jour- 
ney to  their  final  doom,  traveled.  They  started  in  some 
unhappy  home  of  the  city  or  of  the  country.  They 
plunged  into  the  shambles  of  death  within  ten  minutes' 
walk  of  the  Fifth  Avenue  Hotel,  New  York,  and  then 
came  on  gradually  down  until  they  have  arrived  at  the 
Fourth  Ward.  When  they  move  out  of  the  Fourth 
Ward  they  will  move  into  Bellevue  Hospital;  when  they 
move  out  of  Bellevue  Hospital  they  will  move  to  Black- 
well's  Island;  when  they  move  from  Blackwell's  Island 
they  will  move  to  the  Potter's  Field;  when  they  move 
from  the  Potter's  Field  they  will  move  into  hell!  Belle- 
vue Hospital  and  Blackwell's  Island  take  care  of  18,000 
patients  in  one  year.  As  we  passed  on,  the  rain  pattering 
on  the  street  and  dripping  around  the  doorways  made 
the  night  more  dismal.  I  said,  "  Xow  let  the  police  go 
ahead,"  and  they  flashed  their  light,  and  there  were  four- 
teen persons  trying  to  sleep,  or  sleeping,  in  one  room- 
Some  on  a  bundle  of  straw;  more  with  nothing  under 
them  and  nothing  over  them.  "Oh!"  yon  say,  "this  is 
exceptional."  It  is  not.  Thousands  lodge  in  that  way. 
One  hundred  and  seventy  thousand  families  living  in 
tenement  houses,  in  more  or  less  inconvenience,  more  or 
less  squalor.  Half  a  million  people  in  New  York  city — 
five  hundred  thousand  people  living  in  tenement-houses; 
multitudes  of  these  people  dying  by  inches.  Of  the 
twenty-four  thousand  that  die  yearly  in  2s  ew  York  four- 
teen thousand  die  in  tenement-houses.  No  lungs  that 
God  ever  made  could  for  a  long  while  stand  the  at- 
mosphere we  breathed  for  a  little  while.    In  the  Fourth 


86 


UNDER  THE  POLICE  LANTERN. 


Ward,  17,000  people  within  the  space  of  thirty  acres. 
You  say,  "Why  not  clear  them  out?  Why  not,  as  at 
Liverpool,  where  20,000  of  these  people  were  cleared  out 
of  the  city,  and  the  city  saved  from  a  moral  pestilence, 
and  the  people  themselves  from  being  victimized?" 
There  will  be  no  reformation  for  these  cities  until  the 
tenement-house  system  is  entirely  broken  up.  The  city 
authorities  will  have  to  buy  farms,  and  will  have  to  put 
these  people  on  those  farms,  and  compel  them  to  work. 
By  the  strong  arm  of  the  law,  by  the  police  lantern  con- 
joined with  Christian  charity,  these  places  must  be  ex- 
posed and  must  be  uprooted.  Those  places  in  London 
which  have  become  historical  for  crowded  populations — 
St.  Giles,  Whitechapel,  Holborn,  the  Strand — have  their 
match  at  last  in  the  Sixth  Ward,  Eleventh  Ward,  Four- 
teenth Ward,  Seventeenth  Ward  of  New  York.  No 
purification  for  our  cities  until  each  family  shall  have 
something  of  the  privacy  and  seclusion  of  a  home  circle. 
As  long  as  they  herd  like  beasts,  they  will  be  beasts. 

Hark!  What  is  that  heavy  thud  on  the  wet  pavement? 
Why,  that  is  a  drunkard  who  has  fallen,  his  head  striking 
against  the  street — striking  very  hard.  The  police  try 
to  lift  him  up.  Ring  the  bell  for  the  city  ambulance. 
No.  Only  an  outcast,  only  a  tatterdemalion — a  heap  of 
sores  and  rags.  But  look  again.  Perhaps  he  has  some 
marks  of  manhood  on  his  face;  perhaps  he  may  have 
been  made  in  the  image  of  God;  perhaps  he  has  a  soul 
which  will  live  after  the  dripping  heavens  of  this  dismal 
night  have  been  rolled  together  as  a  scroll;  perhaps  he 
may  have  been  died  for,  by  a  king;  perhaps  he  may  yet 
be  a  conqueror  charioted  in  the  splendors  of  heavenly 
welcome.  But  we  must  pass  on.  We  cross  the  street, 
and,  the  rain  beating  in  his  face,  lies  a  man  entirely  un- 
conscious.   I  wonder  where  he  came  from.    I  wonder  if 


UNDER  THE  POLICE  LANTERN. 


87 


any  one  is  waiting  for  him.  I  wonder  if  he  was  ever 
rocked  in  a  Christian  cradle.  I  wonder  if  that  gashed 
and  bloated  forehead  was  ever  kissed  by  a  fond  mother's 
lips.  I  wonder  if  he  is  stranded  for  eternity.  But  we 
cannot  stop.  We  passed  on  down,  the  air  loaded  with 
blasphemies  and  obscenities,  until  I  heard  something 
that  astounded  me  more  than  all.  I  said,  "What  is 
that?"  It  was  a  loud,  enthusiastic  Christian  song,  rolling 
out  on  the  stormy  air.  I  went  up  to  the  window  and 
looked  in.  There  was  a  room  filled  with  all  sorts  of 
people,  some  standing,  some  kneeling,  some  sitting,  some 
singing,  some  praying,  some  shaking  hands  as  if  to  give 
encouragement,  some  wringing  their  hands  as  though 
over  a  wasted  life.  What  was  this?  Oh!  it  was  Jerry 
McAuley's  glorious  Christian  mission.  There  he  stood, 
himself  snatched  from  death,  snatching  others  from  death. 
That  scene  paid  for  all  the  nausea  and  fatigue  of  the  mid- 
night exploration.  Our  tears  fell  with  the  rain — tears 
of  sympathy  for  a  good  man's  work;  tears  of  gratitude 
to  God  that  one  lifeboat  had  been  launched  on  that  wild 
sea  of  sin  and  death;  tears  of  hope  that  there  might  be 
lifeboats  enough  to  take  off  all  the  wrecked,  and,  that, 
after  a  while,  the  Church  of  God,  rousing  from  its  fas- 
tidiousness, might  lay  hold  with  both  hands  of  this 
work,  which  must  be  done  if  our  cities  are  not  to  go 
down  in  darkness  and  fire  and  blood. 

This  cluster  of  cities  have  more  difficulty  than  any 
other  cities  in  all  the  land.  You  must  understand  that 
within  the  last  twenty- eight  years  five  millions  of  for- 
eign population  have  arrived  at  our  port.  The  most  of 
those  who  had  capital  and  means  passed  on  to  the  greater 
openings  at  the  West.  Many  however,  stayed  and  have  be- 
come our  best  citizens,  and  best  members  of  our  churches; 
but  we  know  also  that,  tarrying  within  our  borders,  there 


88 


UNDER  THE  POLICE  ULNTEKN. 


has  been  a  vast  criminal  population  ready  to  be  manipu- 
lated by  the  demagogue,  ready  to  hatch  out  all  kinds  of 
criminal  desperation.  The  vagrancy  and  the  beggary 
of  our  cities,  augmented  by  the  very  worst  populations 
of  London  and  Edinburg,  and  Glasgow,  and  Berlin,  and 
Belfast,  and  Dublin  and  Cork.  We  had  enough  vaga- 
bondage, and  enough  turpitude  in  our  American  cities 
before  this  importation  of  sin  was  dumped  at  Castle 
Garden.  Oh!  this  pauperism,  when  will  it  ever  be  alle- 
viated? How  much  we  saw!  How  much  we  could  not 
see!  How  much  none  but  the  eye  of  Almighty  God 
will  ever  see!  Flash  the  lantern  of  the  police  around  to 
that  station-house.  There  they  come  up,  the  poor  crea- 
tures, tipping  their  torn  hats,  saying,  "  Night's  lodging, 
sir?"  And  then  they  are  waived  away  into  the  dormi- 
tories. One  hundred  and  forty  thousand  such  lodgers 
in  the  city  of  New  York  every  year.  The  atmosphere 
unbearable.  What  pathos  in  the  fact  that  many  families 
turned  out  of  doors  because  they  cannot  pay  their  rent, 
come  in  here  for  shelter,  and  after  struggling  for  decency, 
and  struggling  for  a  good  name,  are  flung  into  this 
loathsome  pool.  The  respectable  and  the  reprobate.  In- 
nocent childhood  and  vicious  old  age.  The  Lord's  poor 
and  Satan's  desperadoes.  There  is  no  report  of  alms- 
house and  missionary  that  will  ever  tell  the  story  of  New 
York  and  Brooklyn  pauperism.  It  will  take  a  larger 
book,  a  book  with  more  ponderous  lids,  a  book  made  of 
p:iper  other  than  that  of  earthly  manufacture.  The  book 
of  God's  remembrance!  At  my  basement  door  we  aver- 
age between  fifty  and  one  hundred  calls  every  day  for 
help.  Beside  that,  in  my  reception  room,  from  7  o'clock 
in  the  morning  until  10  o'clock  at  night,  there  is  a  con- 
tinuous procession  of  people  applying  for  aid,  making  a 
demand  which  an  old-fashioned  silken  purse,  caught  at 


UNDER  THE  POLICE  LANTERN. 


89 


the  middle  with  a  ring,  the  wealth  of  Vanderbilt  in  one 
end  and  the  wealth  of  William  B.  Astor  in  the  other  end, 
could  not  satisfy.  Of  coarse,  I  speak  of  those  men's 
wealth  while  they  lived.  We  have  more  money  now  than 
they  have  since  they  have  their  shroud  on.  But  even 
the  shroud  and  the  grave,  we  find,  are  to  be  contested  for. 
Cursed  be  the  midnight  jackals  of  St.  Mark's  Church- 
yard! But  I  must  go  on  with  the  fact  that  the  story  of 
Brooklyn  and  Xew  York  pauperism  needs  to  be  written 
in  ink,  black,  blue  and  red — blue  for  the  stripes,  red  for 
the  blood,  black  for  the  infamy.  In  this  cluster  of  cities 
20,000  people  supported  by  the  bureau  for  the  outdoor 
sick;  20,000  people  taken  care  of  by  the  city  hospitals; 
70,000  provided  for  by  private  charity ;  80,000  taken  care 
of  by  reformatory  institutions  and  prisons.  Hear  it,  ye 
churches,  and  pour  out  your  benefaction.  Hear  it,  you 
ministers  of  religion,  and  utter  words  of  sympathy  for 
the  suffering,  and  thunders  of  indignation  against  the 
cause  of  all  this  wretchedness.  Hear  it,  mayoralties  and 
judicial  bench,  and  constabularies.  Unless  we  wake  up, 
the  Lord  will  scourge  us  as  the  vellow  fever  never 
scourged  New  Orleans,  as  the  plague  never  smote  Lon- 
don, as  the  earthquake  never  shook  Carraccas,  as  the  fire 
never  overwhelmed  Sodom.  I  wish  I  could  throw  a  bomb- 
shell of  arousal  into  every  city  hall,  meeting-house  and 
cathedral  on  the  continent.  The  factories  at  Fall  River 
and  at  Lowell  sometimes  stop  for  lack  of  demand,  and  for 
lack  of  workmen,  but  this  million-roomed  factory  of  sin 
and  death  never  stops,  never  slackens  a  band,  never  ar- 
rests a  spindle.  The  great  wheel  of  that  factory  keeps 
on  turning,  not  by  such  floods  as  those  of  the  Merrimac  or 
the  Connecticut,  but  crimson  Hoods  rushing  forth  from 
the  groggeries,  and  the  wine-cellars,  and  the  drinking 
saloons  of  the  land,  and  the  faster  the  floods  rush  the 


90 


UNDER  THE  POLICE  LANTERN. 


faster  the  wheel  turns;  and  the  band  of  that  wheel  is 
woven  from  broken  heart-strings,  and  every  time  the 
wheel  turns,  from  the  mouth  of  the  mill  come  forth 
blasted  estates,  squalor,  vagrancy,  crime,  sin,  woe — 
individual  woe,  municipal  woe,  national  woe — and  the 
creaking  and  the  rumbling  of  the  wheels  are  the  shrieks 
and  the  groans  of  men  and  women  lost  for  two  worlds, 
and  the  cry  is,  "Bring  on  more  fortunes,more  homes,  more 
States,  more  cities,  to  make  up  the  awful  grist  of  this  stu- 
pendous mill."  "Oh,"  you  say,  "the  wretchedness  and 
the  sin  of  the  city  will  go  out  from  lack  of  material  after 
awhile."  No,  it  will  not.  The  police  lantern  flashes  in 
another  direction.  Here  come  15,000  shoeless,  hatless, 
homeless  children  of  the  street,  in  this  cluster  of  cities. 
They  are  the  reserve  corps  of  this  great  army  of  wretch- 
edness and  crime  that  are  dropping  down  into  the  Morgue, 
the  East  river,  the  Potter's  Field,  the  prison.  A  phi- 
lanthropist has  estimated  that  if  these  children  were 
placed  in  a  great  procession,  double-file,  three  feet  apart, 
they  would  make  a  procession  eleven  miles  long.  Oh! 
what  a  pale,  coughing,  hunger-bitten,  sin-cursed,  opthal- 
mic  throng — the  tigers,  the  adders,  the  scorpions  ready 
to  bite  and  sting  society,  which  they  take  to  be  their 
natural  enemy.  Howard  Mission  has  saved  many.  Chil- 
dren's Aid  Society  has  saved  many.  Industrial  Schools 
have  saved  many.  One  of  these  societies  transported 
30,000  children  from  the  streets  of  our  cities,  to  farms 
at  the  West,  by  a  stratagem  of  charit}',  turning  them  from 
vagrancy  into  useful  citizenship,  and  out  of  21,000  chil- 
dren thus  transported  from  the  cities  to  farm?  only 
twelve  turned  out  badly.  But  still  the  reserve  corps  of 
sin  and  wretchedness  marches  on.  There  is  the  regi- 
ment of  boot-blacks.  They  seem  jolly,  but  they  have 
more  sorrow  than  many  an  old  man  has  had.    All  kinds 


UNDER  THE  POLICE  LANTERN. 


91 


of  temptation.  Working  on,  making  two  or  three  dol- 
lars a  week.  At  fifteen  years  of  age  sixty  years  old  in 
sin.  Pitching  pennies  at  the  street  corners.  Smoking 
fragments  of  castaway  cigars.  Tempted  by  the  gamblers. 
Destroyed  by  the  top  gallery  in  the  low  play  house. 
Blacking  shoes  their  regular  business.  Between  times 
blackening  their  morals.  "Shine  your  boots,  sir?"  they 
call  out  with  merry  voices,  but  there  is  a  tremor  in  their 
accentuation.  Who  cares  for  them?  You  put  your  foot 
thoughtlessly  on  their  stand,  and  you  whistled  or 
smoked,  when  God  knows  you  might  have  given  them 
one  kind  word.  They  never  had  one.  Whoever  prayed 
for  a  bootblack?  Who,  finding  the  wind  blowing  under 
the  short  jacket,  or  reddening  his  bare  neck,  ever  asked 
him  to  warm?  Who,  when  he  is  wronged  out  of  his  ten 
cents,  demands  justice  for  him?  God  have  mercy  on 
the  bootblacks.  The  newsboys,  another  regiment — the 
smartest  boys  in  all  the  city.  At  work  at  four  o'clock  in 
the  morning.  At  half-past  three,  by  unnatural  vigilance, 
awake  themselves,  or  pulled  at  by  rough  hands.  In  the 
dawn  of  the  day  standing  before  the  folding-rooms  of 
the  great  newspapers,  taking  the  wet,  damp  sheets  over 
their  arms,  and  against  their  chests  already  shivering 
with  the  cold.  Around  the  bleak  ferries,  and  up  and 
down  the  streets  on  the  cold  days,  singing  as  merrily  as 
though  it  were  a  Christmas  carol;  making  half  a  cent 
on  each  paper,  some  of  them  working  fourteen  hours  for 
fifty  cents!  Nine  thousand  of  these  newsboys  applied 
for  aid  at  the  Newsboys'  Lodging-house  on  Park  place, 
New  York,  in  one  year.  About  one  thousand  of  them 
laid  up  in  the  savings  bank  connected  with  that  institu- 
tion, a  little  more  than  $3,000.  But  still  this  great 
army  marches  on,  hungry,  cold,  sick,  toward  an  early 
grave,  or  a  quick  prison.    I  tell  you  there  is  nothing 


92 


UNDER  THE  POLICE  LANTERN. 


that  so  moves  my  compassion  as  on  a  cold  winter  morn- 
ing to  see  one  of  these  newsboys,  a  fourth  clad,  newspa- 
pers on  his  arm  that  he  cannot  seem  to  sell,  face  or  hands 
bleeding  from  a  fall,  or  rubbing  his  knee  to  relieve  it 
from  having  been  hit  on  the  side  of  a  car,  as  some  ''gen- 
tleman," with  furs  around  his  neck  and  gauntlets  lined 
with  lamb's  wool,  shoved  him  off,  saying:  "You  miser- 
able rat!"  Yet  hawking  the  papers  through  the  streets, 
papers  full  of  railroad  accidents  and  factory  explosions, 
and  steamers  foundering  at  sea  in  the  last  storm,  yet  say- 
ing nothing,  and  that  which  is  to  him  worse  than  all  the 
other  calamities  and  all  the  other  disasters,  the  calamity 
that  he  was  ever  born  at  all.  Flash  the  police  lantern 
around,  and  let  us  see  these  poor  lads  cuddled  up  under 
the  stairway.  Look  at  them!  Now  for  a  little  while 
they  are  unconscious  of  all  their  pains  and  aches,  and  of 
the  storm  and  darkness,  once  in  awhile  struggling  in 
their  dreams  as  though  some  one  were  trying  to  take  the 
papers  away  from  them.  Standing  there  I  wondered  if 
it  would  be  right  to  wish  that  they  might  never  wake  up. 
God  pity  them!  There  are  other  regiments  in  this 
reserve  corps — regiments  of  rag-pickers,  regiments  of 
match-sellers,  regiments  of  juvenile  vagrants.  Oh!  if 
these  lads  are  not  saved,  what  is  to  become  of  our  cities? 

But  I  said  to  the  detective,  "I  have  had  enough  of  this 
<o-night;  let  us  go."  But  by  that  time  I  had  lost  the 
points  of  the  compass,  for  we  had  gone  down  stairways 
and  up  stairways,  and  wandered  down  through  this  street 
and  that  street,  and  all  I  knew  was  that  I  was  bounded 
on  the  north  by  want,  and  on  the  south  by  squalor,  and 
on  the  east  by  crime,  and  on  the  west  by  despair.  The 
fact  was  that  everything  had  opened  before  us;  for  these 
detectives  pretended  to  be  searching  for  a  thief,  and  they 
took  me  along  as  the  man  who  had  lost  the  property! 


UNDER  THE  POLICE  LANTERN. 


93 


The  stratagem  was  theirs,  riot  mine.  But  I  thought 
coming  home  that  rainy  night,  I  wished  I  could  make 
pass  before  my  congregation,  as  in  a  panorama,  all  that 
scene  of  suffering,  that  I  might  stir  their  pity  and  arouse 
their  beneficence,  and  make  them  the  everlasting  friends 
of  city  evangelization.  "Why,"  you  say,  "I  had  no 
idea  things  were  so  bad.  Why,  I  get  in  my  carriage  at 
Forty-fifth  street  and  I  ride  clear  down  to  my  banking- 
house  in  Wall  street,  and  I  don't  see  anything."  No, 
you  do  not  want  to  see!  The  King  and  the  Parliament 
of  England  did  not  know  that  there  were  thirty-six  bar- 
rels of  gunpowder  rolled  into  the  vaults  under  the  Par- 
liament House.  They  did  not  know  Guy  Fawkes  had 
his  touchwood  and  matches  all  ready — ready  to  dash  the 
Government  of  England  into  atoms.  The  conspiracy 
was  revealed,  however.  I  tell  you  I  have  explored  the 
vaults  of  city  life,  and  I  am  here  this  morning  to  tell 
you  that  there  are  deathful  and  explosive  influences  under 
all  our  cities,  ready  to  destroy  us  with  a  great  moral  con- 
vulsion. Some  men  say:  "I  don't  see  anything  of  this, 
and  I  am  not  interested  in  it."  You  ought  to  be.  You 
remind  me  of  a  man  who  has  been  shipwrecked  with  a. 
thousand  others.  lie  happens  to  get  up  on  the  shore, 
and  the  others  are  all  down  in  the  surf.  He  goes  up  in 
a  fisherman's  cabin,  and  sits  down  to  warm  himself.  The 
fisherman  says:  "Oh!  this  won't  do.  Come  out  and 
help  me  to  get  these  others  out  of  the  surf."  "Oh,  no!" 
says  the  man;  "it's  my  business  now  to  warm  myself." 
"But,"  says  the  fisherman,  "these  men  are  dying;  are 
yon  not  going  to  give  them  help?"  "Oh,  no!  I've  got 
ashore  myself,  and  I  must  warm  myself!"  That  is  what 
people  are  doing  in  the  church  to-day.  A  great  multi- 
tude are  out  in  the  surf  of  sin  and  death,  going  down 
forever;  but  men  sit  by  the  fire  of  the  church,  warming 


94 


UNDER  THE  POLICE  LANTERN. 


their  Christian  graces,  warming  their  faith,  warming 
their  hope  for  heaven,  and  I  say,  "Come  out,  and  work 
to-day  for  Christ."  "Oh,  no,"  they  say;  "my  sublime 
duty  is  to  warm  myself!"  Such  men  as  that  will  not 
come  within  ten  thousand  miles  of  heaven!  Help  for- 
eign missions.  Those  of  my  own  blood  are  toiling  in 
foreign  lands  with  Christ's  Word.  Send  a  million  dol- 
lars for  the  salvation  of  the  heathen — that  is  right — but 
look  after  the  heathen  also  around  the  mouths  of  the 
Hudson  and  East  rivers.  Send  missionaries  if  you  will 
to  Borioboola-gha,  but  send  missionaries  also  through 
Houston  street,  Mercer  street,  Greene  street,  Navy  street, 
Fulton  street,  and  all  around  about  Brooklyn  Atlantic 
Docks.  If  you  will,  send  quilted  coverlets  to  Central 
Africa  to  keep  the  natives  warm  in  summer-time,  and 
send  ice-cream  freezers  to  Greenland,  but  do  have  a  little 
common  sense  and  practical  charity,  and  help  these  cities 
here  that  want  hats,  want  clothes,  want  shoes,  want  fire, 
want  medicines,  want  instruction,  want  the  Gospel,  want 
Christ. 

I  must  adjourn  to  another  Sabbath  morning  much  of 
what  I  have  to  say  in  regard  to  this  city  midnight  ex- 
ploration, and  also  the  proposing  of  remedies;  for  I  am 
not  the  man  to  stand  here  Sabbath  by  Sabbath  talking  of 
ills  when  I  have  no  panacea.  There  is  an  almighty  res- 
cue for  the  city,  and  in  due  time  I  will  speak  of  these 
things. 

You  have  seen  often  a  magic  lantern.  You  have  seen 
the  room  darkened,  and  then  the  magic  lantern  throwing 
a  picture  on  the  canvas.  Well,  this  morning  I  wish  I 
could  darken  these  three  great  emblazoned  windows,  and 
have  all  the  doors  darkened,  and  then  I  could  bring  out 
two  magic  lanterns — the  magic  lantern  of  the  home,  and 
the  magic  lantern  of  the  police.    Here  is  the  magic  lau- 


UNDER  THE  POLICE  LANTERN.  95 

tern  of  the  home.  Look  now  upon  the  canvas.  Mother 
putting  the  little  children  to  bed,  trying  to  hush  the 
frisky  and  giggling  group  for  the  evening  prayer;  their 
foreheads  against  the  counterpane,  they  are  trying  to 
say  their  evening  prayer;  their  tongue  is  so  crooked 
that  none  but  God  and  the  mother  can  understand  it. 
Then  the  children  are  lifted  into  bed,  and  they  are  cov- 
ered up  to  the  chin.  Then  the  mother  gives  them  a  warm 
good-night  kiss,  and  leaves  them  to  the  guardian  angels 
that  spread  wings  of  canopy  over  the  trundle-bed.  Mid- 
night lantern  of  the  police.  Look  now  on  the  canvas. 
A  boy  kenneled  for  the  night  underneath  the  stairway 
in  a  hall  through  which  the  wind  sweeps,  or  lying  on  the 
cold  ground.  He  had  no  parentage.  He  was  pitched 
into  the  world  by  a  merciless  incognito.  He  does  not 
go  to  bed ;  he  has  no  bed.  His  cold  fingers  thrust  through 
his  matted  hair  his  only  pillow.  He  did  not  sup  last 
night;  he  will  not  breakfast  to-morrow.  An  outcast;  a 
ragamuffin.  He  did  not  say  his  prayers  when  he  retired; 
he  knows  no  prayer;  he  never  heard  the  name  of  God  or 
Christ,  except  as  something  to  swear  by.  The  wings 
over  him,  not  the  wings  of  angels,  but  the  dark,  bat-like 
wings  of  penury  and  want.  Magic  lantern  of  the  home. 
Look  now  on  the  canvas.  Family  gathered  around  the 
argand  burner.  Father,  feet  on  ottoman,  mother  sewing 
a  picturesque  pattern.  Two  children  pretending  to  study, 
but  chiefly  watching  other  children  who  are  in  unre- 
strained romp,  so  many  balls  of  fun  and  frolic  in  full 
bounce  from  room  to  room.  Background  of  pictures 
and  upholstery  and  musical  instrument,  from  which  jew- 
eled fingers  sweep  "Home,  Sweet  Home."  Magic  lantern 
of  the  police.  Look  now  on  the  canvas.  A  group  in- 
toxicated and  wrangling,  cursing  God,  cursing  each 
other;  the  past  all  shame,  the  future  all  suffering.  Chil- 
dren fleeing  from  the  missile  flung  by  a  father's  hand. 


96 


UNDER  THE  POLICE  LANTEBN. 


Fragments  of  a  chair  propped  against  the  wall.  Frag- 
ments of  a  pitcher  standing  on  the  mantle.  A  pile  of 
refuse  food  brought  in  from  some  kitchen,  torn  by  the 
human  swine  plunging  into  the  trough.  Magic  lantern 
of  the  home.  Look  now  upon  the  canvas.  A  Christian 
daughter  has  just  died.  Carriages  rolling  up  to  the 
door  in  sympathy.  Flowers  in  crowns  and  anchors  and 
harps  covering  the  beautiful  casket,  the  silver  plate 
marked,  "aged  18."  Funeral  services  intoned  amid  the 
richly-shawled  and  gold-braceleted.  Long  procession 
going  out  this  way  to  unparalleled  Greenwood  to  the 
beautiful  family  plot  where  the  sculptor  will  raise  the 
monument  of  burnished  Aberdeen  with  the  inscription, 
''She  is  not  dead,  but  sleepeth."  Oh!  blessed  is  that  home 
which  has  a  consecrated  Christian  daughter,  whether  on 
earth  or  in  heaven.  Magic  lantern  of  the  police.  Look 
now  on  the  canvas.  A  poor  waif  of  the  street  has  just 
expired.  Did  she  have  any  doctor?  No.  Did  she  have 
any  medicine?  No.  Did  she  have  any  hands  to  close 
her  eyes  and  fold  her  arms  in  death?  No.  Are  there 
no  garments  in  the  house  fit  to  wrap  her  in  for  the  tomb? 
None.  Those  worn-out  shoes  will  not  do  for  these  feel 
in  their  last  journey.  Where  are  all  the  good  Christians? 
Oh!  some  of  them  are  rocking-chaired,  in  morning 
gowns,  in  tears  over  Bulwer  Lytton's  account  of  the  last 
days  of  Pompeii;  they  are  so  sorry  for  that  girl  that  got 
petrified!  Others  of  the  Christians  are  in  church,  kneel- 
ing on  a  soft  rug,  praying  for  the  forlorn  Hottentots! 
Come,  call  in  the  Coroner — call  in  the  Charity  Commis- 
sioner. The  carpenter  unrolls  the  measuring-tape,  and 
decides  she  will  need  a  box  five  and  a  half  feet  long. 
Two  men  lift  her  into  the  box,  lift  the  box  into  the 
wagon,  and  it  starts  for  the  Potter's  Field.  The  excavation 
is  not  large  enough  for  the  box,  and  the  men  are  in  a 


UNDER  THE  POLICE  LANTERN. 


97 


hurry,  and  one  of  them  gets  on  the  lid  and  cranches  it 
down  to  its  place  in  the  ground.  Stop!  Wait  for  the 
city  missionary  until  he  can  come  and  read  a  chapter,  or 
say,  "Ashes  to  ashes,  dust  to  dust."  "No,"  say  the  men 
of  the  spade,  "we  have  three  or  four  more  cases  just 
like  this  to  bury  before  night."  "Well,"  I  say,  "how, 
then,  is  the  grave  to  be  filled  up?"  Christ  suggests  a 
way.  Perhaps  it  had  better  be  filled  up  with  stones. 
"Let  those  who  are  without  sin  come  and  cast  a  stone  at 
her,"  until  the  excavation  is  filled.  Then  the  wagon 
rolls  off,  and  I  see  a  form  coming  slowly  across  the  Pot- 
ter's Field.  He  walks  very  slowly,  as  his  feet  hurt. 
He  comes  to  that  grave,  and  there  he  stands  all  day  and 
all  night,  and  I  come  out  and  I  accost  him,  and  I  say? 
"Who  art  thou?"  And  he  says,  "I  am  the  Christ  of 
Mary  Magdalen!"  And  then  I  thought  that  perhaps 
there  might  have  been  a  dying  prayer,  and  that  there 
might  have  been  penitential  tears,  and  around  that  mis- 
erable spot  at  the  last  there  may  be  more  resurrection 
pomp  than  when  Queen  Elizabeth  gets  out  of  her  mauso- 
leum in  Westminster  Abbey. 

But  I  must  close  the  two  lanterns. 
7  . 


98 


SATANIC  AGITATION. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

SATANIC  AGITATION. 

"  The  devil  is  come  down  unto  you,  having  great  wrath,  because 
he  knoweth  he  hath  but  a  short  time.'' — Revelation  xii:  12. 

Somehow  the  enemy  of  all  good  has  found  out  what 
will  be  the  hour  of  his  dismissal  from  this  world.  He 
cried  out  to  Christ:  "Hast  thou  come  to  torment  us 
before  the  time?"  It  is  a  healthful  symptom  that  Satan 
is  so  active  now  in  all  our  cities.  It  is  the  indication 
that  he  is  going  out  of  business.  From  the  way  that  he 
flies  around,  he  is  practically  saying:  rf  Give  me  500,000 
souls;  give  me  New  York  and  Brooklyn;  give  me  Boston 
and  Philadelphia  and  Cincinnati;  give  me  all  the  cities, 
and  give  them  to  me  quickly,  or  I  will  never  get  them 
at  all."  That  Satan  is  in  paroxysm  of  excitement  is  cer- 
tain. His  establishments  are  nearly  bankrupted.  That 
the  powers  of  darkness  are  nervous,  knowing  their  time 
is  short,  is  evident  from  the  fact  that,  if  a  man  stand  in  a 
pulpit  speaking  against  the  great  iniquities  of  the  day, 
they  all  begin  to  flutter. 

A  few  nights  ago,  riding  up  Broadway,  I  asked  the 
driver  to  stop  at  a  street-lamp  that  I  might  better 
examine  my  memorandum  (it  happened  to  be  in  front  of 
a  place  of  amusement),  when  a  man  rushed, out  with 
great  alarm  and  excitement,  and  said  to  the  driver,  "Is 
that  Talmage  you  have  inside  there?"  Men  write  me 
with  commercial  handwriting,  protesting,  evidently  be- 


SATANIC  AGITATION. 


99 


cause  they  fear  that  sometimes  in  their  midnight  carousal 
the}7  may  meet  a  Christian  reformer  and  explorer.  I  had 
thought  to  preach  three  or  four  sermons  on  the  night 
side  of  city  life  ;  but  now  that  I  find  that  all  the  powers 
of  darkness  are  so  agitated  and  alarmed  and  terrorized,  I 
plant  the  battery  for  new  assault  upon  the  castles  of  sin, 
and  shall  go  on  from  Sabbatli  morning  to  Sabbath  morn- 
ing, saying  all  I  have  to  say,  winding  up  this  subject  by  «. 
several  sermons  on  the  glorious  daybreak  of  Christian 
reform  and  charity  which  have  made  this  cluster  of  cities 
the  best  place  on  earth  to  live  in.  Meanwhile,  under- 
stand that  whatever  Satanic  excitement  may  be  abroad 
is  only  in  fulfillment  ot  the  words  of  my  text:  "The 
devil  is  come  down  unto  you,  having  great  wrath,  be- 
cause he  knoweththat  he  hath  but  a  short  time." 

A  few  nights  ago,  passing  over  from  Brooklyn  by 
South  Ferry,  our  great  metropolis  looked  like  a  mountain 
of  picturescjueness  and  beauty.  There  were  enough  stars 
scattered  over  the  heavens  to  suggest  the  street-lamps 
of  that  city  which  hath  no  need  of  the  sun.  The  masts 
of  the  shipping  against  the  sky  brought  to  us  the  cos- 
mopolitan feeling,  and  I  said,  "All  the  world  is  here." 
The  spires  of  St.  Paul's,  and  St.  George's,  and  of  Trinity 
pointed  up  through  the  starlight  toward  the  only  rescue 
for  the  dying  populations  of  our  great  cities.  Long  rows 
of  lamps  skirted  the  city  with  fire.  More  than  ten  thous- 
and gaslights,  united  with  those  kindled  in  towers  and 
in  the  top  stories  of  establishments  which  ply  great  in- 
dustries in  perpetual  motion,  threw  on  the  sky  from 
horizon  to  horizon  the  radiance  of  a  vast  illumination. 
Landing  on  New  York  side,  the  first  thing  that  confront- 
ed us  was  the  greatest  nuisance  and  the  grandest  relief 
which  New  York  has  experienced  in  the  last  thirty  years, 
the  elevated  railway,  which,  while  it  has  commercial 


100 


SATANIC  AGITATION. 


significance,  has  more  moral  meaning.  Ruin  and  death 
to  the  streets  through  which  it  runs,  it  is  the  means  of 
moral  salvation  to  the  crowded  and  smothered  tenement- 
houses,  which  have  been  slaying  their  thousands  year  by 
year.  Was  there  ever  such  a  disfigurement  and  scarifi- 
cation of  carpentry  and  engineering  that  wrought  such 
a  blissful  result?  The  great  obstacle  to  New  York  morals 
is  the  shape  of  the  island.  More  than  nine  miles  long, 
in  some  places  it  is  only  a  mile  and  a  half  wide.  While 
this  immense  water  frontage  of  twenty  miles  is  grand 
for  commerce,  it  gives  crowded  residence  to  the  popula- 
tion, unless,  by  some  rapid  mode  of  transit  they  can  be 
whirled  to  distant  homes  at  night,  and  whirled  back 
again  in  the  morning.  These  people  must  be  near  their 
work.  Some  of  them  do  not  like  ferriage.  Many  of 
them  are  afraid  of  water.  From  the  looks  of  some  of 
their  hands  and  faces,  you  find  it  proved  that  they  are 
afraid  of  water.  Hence  they  are  huddled  together  in 
tenement-houses,  which  are  the  destruction  of  all  health, 
all  modesty,  and  the  highest  style  of  morals.  For  the 
last  thirty  years  New  York  has  been  crowded  to  death. 
Hence,  when  on  the  night  of  our  exploration  we  saw  the 
rail-train  flying  through  the  air,  I  said  to  myself,  uThis 
is  the  first  practical  alleviation  of  the  tenement-house 
system."  People  of  small  means  will  have  an  oppor- 
tunity of  getting  to  the  better  air  and  the  better  morals 
and  the  better  accomodations  of  the  country.  But  let 
not  this  style  of  improvement  be  made  at  the  expense  of 
those  whose  property  is  destroyed  by  the  clatter  and  bang 
and  wheeze  of  mid-air  locomotive.  Let  cities,  like  indi- 
viduals, pay  for  damages  wrought,  and  for  horses  fright- 
ened out  of  their  harness,  and  for  carriages  smashed 
against  the  curbstone.  New  York  and  Brooklyn  and  all 
our  great  cities  need  what  London  has  already  gained — 


SATANIC  AGITATION. 


101 


underground  railroads  which  shall,  without  hindrance 
and  without  danger  and  without  nuisance,  put  down  our 
great  populations  just  where  they  want  to  be,  morning 
and  night. 

Passing  up  through  the  city,  on  the  left  was  Castle 
Garden,  now  comparatively  unattractive;  but  as  we  went 
past,  my  boyhood  memory  brought  back  to  me  the  time 
when  all  that  region  was  crowded  with  the  finest  equi- 
pages of  New  York  and  Brooklyn,  and  Castle  Garden 
was  thronged  with  a  great  multitude,  many  of  whom 
had  paid  $14  for  a  seat  to  hear  Jenny  Lind  sing.  While 
God  might  make  a  hundred  such  artists  in  a  year,  He 
makes  only  one  for  a  century.  He  who  heard  her  sing 
would  have  no  right  to  complain  if  he  never  heard  any 
more  music  until  he  heard  the  doxology  of  the  one  hun- 
dred and  forty  and  four  thousand.  There  was  the  music 
of  two  worlds  in  her  voice.  While  surrounded  by  those 
who  almost  deified  her,  she  wrote  in  a  private  album  a 
verse  which  it  may  not  be  wrong  to  quote: 

In  vain  I  seek  for  rest 

In  all  created  good; 
It  leaves  me  still  unblest 

And  makes  me  cry  for  God. 
And  sure  at  rest  I  cannot  be 
Until  my  heart  finds  rest  in  Thee. 

That  was  the  secret  of  her  music,  and  never,  either 
day  or  night,  do  I  pass  Castle  Garden,  but  I  think  of 
the  Swedish  cantatrice  and  the  excited  and  vociferating 
assemblage,  the  majority  of  whom  have  joined  the  larger 
assemblages  of  the  next  world. 

Passing  on  up  into  !New  York,  we  left  on  the  right 
hand,  the  once  fashionable  Bowling  Green,  around  which 
the  wealth  of  New  York  congregated — the  once  elegant 
drawing-rooms,  now  occupied  by  steamship  companies, 


102 


SATANIC  AGITATION. 


where  passengers  get  booked  for  Glasgow  and  Liverpool; 
the  inhabitants  of  those  once  elegant  drawing-rooms  long 
ago  booked  for  a  longer  voyage.  Passing  on  up,  we 
heard  only  the  clatter  of  the  horses'  hoofs  until  we  came 
to  the  head  of  Wall  street,  and  by  the  two  rows  of  gas- 
lights, saw  that  on  all  that  street  there  was  not  a  foot 
stirring.  And  yet  there  seemed  to  come  up  on  the  night 
air  the  cachinnation  of  those  on  whose  hands  the  stocks 
had  gone  up,  and  the  sighing  of  jobbers  ou  whose  hands 
the  stocks  had  gone  down.  The  street,  only  half  a  mile 
long,  and  yet  the  avenue  of  fabulous  accumulation,  and 
appalling  bankruptcy,  and  wild  swindle,  and  suicide,  and 
catastrophe,  and  death!  While  the  sough  of  the  wind 
came  up  from  Wall  street  toward  old  Trinity,  it  seemed 
to  say:  "Where  is  Ketcham  ?  Where  is  Swartwout  ? 
Where  is  Gay?  Where  is  Fisk  ?  Where  is  Cornelius 
Yanderbilt  ?  Where  is  the  Black  Friday?''  Then  the 
tower  of  Trinity  tolled  nine  times — three  for  the  bank- 
rupted, three  for  the  suicided,  three  for  the  dead! 
"Hurry  up,  George,"  I  said,  "and  get  past  this  place:" 
for  though  I  do  not  believe  in  ghosts,  I  wanted  to  get 
past  that  forsaken  and  all-suggestive  night-scene  of  Wall 
street.  Under  the  flickering  gaslight  one  of  active  im- 
agination might  almost  imagine  he  saw  the  ghosts  of 
ten  thousand  fortunes  dead  and  damned.  Hastening  on 
up  a  few  blocks,  we  came  where,  on  the  right  side,  we 
saw  large  establishments  ablaze  from  foundation  to  cap- 
stone. These  were  the  great  printing-houses  of  the  New 
York  dailies.  We  got  out.  We  went  in.  We  went  up 
from  editorial  rooms  to  type-setters'  and  proof-readers' 
loft.  These  are  the  foundries  where  the  great  thunder- 
bolts of  public  opinion  are  forged.  How  the  pens 
scratched!  How  the  types  clicked!  How  the  scissors 
cut!    How  the  wheels  rushed,  all  the  world's  news  roll- 


SATANIC  AGITATION. 


103 


ing  over  the  cylinder  like  Niagara  at  Table  Rock.  Great 
torrents  of  opinion,  of  crimes;  of  accidents,  of  destroyed 
reputations,  of  avenged  character.  Who  can  estimate 
the  mightiness  for  good  or  evil  of  a  daily  newspaper  ? 
Fingers  of  steel  picking  off  the  end  of  telegraphic  wire, 
facts  of  religion  and  philosophy  and  science,  and  infor- 
mation from  the  four  winds  of  heaven!  In  1850  the 
Associated  Press  began  to  pay  $200,000  a  year  for  news. 
Some  of  the  individual  sheets  paying  $50,000  extra  for 
dispatches.  Some  of  them,  independent  of  the  Asso- 
ciated Press,  with  a  wire  rake  gathering  up  sheaves  of 
news  from  all  the  great  harvest  fields  of  the  world.  It 
is  high  time  that  good  men  understood  that  the  print- 
ing press  is  the  mightiest  engine  of  all  the  centuries. 
The  high -water  mark  of  the  printers  type-case  shows  the 
ebb  or  flow  of  the  great  oceanic  tides  of  civilization  or 
Christianity.  Just  think  of  it!  In  1835  all  the  daily 
newspapers  of  New  York  issued  but  10,000  copies.  Now 
there  are  500,000,  and  taking  the  ordinary  calculation 
that  five  people  read  a  newspaper,  two  million,  five  hun- 
dred thousand  people  reading  the  daily  newspapers  of 
New  York!  I  once  could  not  understand  how  the  Bible 
statement  could  be  true  when  it  says  that  "  nations  shall 
be  born  in  a  day."  I  can  understand  it  now.  Get  the 
telegraph  operators  and  the  editors  converted,  and  in 
twenty-four  hours  the  whole  earth  will  hear  the  salvation 
call.  Nothing  more  impressed  me  in  the  night  explora- 
tion than  the  power  of  the  press.  But  it  is  carried  on  with 
oh!  what  aching  eyes,  and  what  exhaustion  of  health. 
I  did  not  find  more  than  one  man  out  of  ten  who  had 
anything  like  brawny  health  in  the  great  newspaper 
establishments  of  New  York.  The  malodor  of  the  ink, 
however  complete  the  ventilation ;  the  necessity  of  toiling 
at  hours  when  God  has  drawn  the  curtain  of  the  night 


104 


SATANIC  AGITATION. 


for  natural  sleep;  the  pressure  of  daily  publication  what- 
ever breaks  down ;  the  temptation  to  intoxicating  stim- 
ulants in  order  to  keep  the  nervous  energy  up,  a  tempta- 
tion which  only  the  strongest  can  resist — all  these  make 
newspaper  life  something  to  be  sympathized  with.  Do 
not  begrudge  the  three  or  five  cents  you  give  for  the 
newspaper.  You  buy  not  only  intelligence  with  that, 
but  you  help  pay  for  sleepless  nights,  and  smarting  eye- 
balls, and  racked  brain,  and  early  sepulchre. 

Coming  out  of  these  establishments,  my  mind  full  of 
the  bewildering  activities  of  the  place,  I  stopped  on  the 
street  and  I  said,  "  Now  drive  up  Broadway,  and  turn 
down  Chambers  street  to  the  left,  and  let  us  see  what 
New  York  will  be  twenty  years  from  now."  The  proba- 
bility is  that  those  who  are  criminal  will  stay  criminal; 
the  vast  majority  of  those  who  are  libertines  will  remain 
libertines;  the  vast  majority  of  those  who  are  thieves 
will  stay  thieves;  the  vast  majority  of  those  who  are 
drunkards  will  stay  drunkards.  "  What,"  say  you,  "no 
hope  for  the  cities?"  Ah!  my  heart  was  never  so  full 
of  high  and  exhilarant  hope  as  now.  We  turned  down 
Chambers  street  until  we  came  to  the  sign  "  Newsboys' 
Lodging-house,"  and  we  went  in.  Now,  if  there  is 
anything  I  like  it  is  boys.  Not  those  brought  up  by 
registers,  with  the  house  heated  by  furnaces,  and  lads 
manipulated  by  some  over-indulgent  aunt,  until  their 
hair  has  been  curled  until  they  have  got  to  be  girls;  but 
I  mean  genuine  boys,  such  as  God  makes,  with  extra 
romp  and  hilarity,  so  that  after  they  have  been  pounded 
by  the  world  they  shall  have  some  exuberance  left.  Boys, 
genuine  boys,  who  cannot  keep  quiet  five  minutes.  Boys 
who  can  skate,  and  swim,  and  rove,  and  fly  kites,  and 
strike  balls,  and  defend  sickly  playmates  when  they  are 
imposed  on,  and  get  hungry  in  half  an  hour  after  they 


SATANIC  AGITATION. 


105 


have  dined,  and  who  keep  things  stirred  up  and  lively. 
Matthew  Arnold's  boys. 

We  entered  the  Newsboys'  Lodging-house,  and  there 
we  found  them.  I  knew  them  right  away,  and  they 
knew  me,  by  a  sort  of  instinct  of  friendliness.  Their 
coats  off;  for,  although  outside  it  was  biting  cold,  inside 
the  room  Christian  charity  had  flooded  everything  with 
glorious  summer.  Over  the  doorway  were  written  the 
words:  "No  boys  that  have  homes  can  stop  here." 
"  What,"  I  said,  "can  it  be  possible  that  all  these  bright 
and  happy  lads  have  been  swept  up  from  the  street?" 
First,  they  are  plunged  into  the  bath,  and  then  they  pass 
under  the  manipulations  of  the  barber,  and  then  they  are 
taken  to  the  wardrobe,  and  in  the  name  of  Him  who 
said,  "  I  was  naked  and  ye  clothed  me,"  they  are  arrayed 
in  appropriate  attire,  each  one  paying,  if  he  can,  so  there 
shall  be  no  sense  of  pauperism;  some  of  them  paying 
one  penny  for  all  the  privileges  of  a  bountiful  table,  and 
the  most  extravagant  paying  only  six  cents.  Gymna- 
sium to  straighten  and  invigorate  the  pinched  bodies. 
Books  for  the  mind.  Religion  for  the  soul.  I  said, 
"Can  these  boys  sing?"  and  the  answer  came  back  in  an 
anthem  that  shook  the  room: 

Ring  the  bells  of  heaven, 
For  there's  joy  to-day. 

I  said,  "  What  is  this  long,  broad  box  with  so  many 
numbers  nailed  by  a  great  many  openings?"  "Oh," 
they  said,  "this  is  the  savings  bank;  the  boys  put  their 
money  here,  and  each  one  has  a  bank-book,  and  he  gets 
his  money  at  the  beginning  of  the  month."  Meanwhile, 
if  under  urgency  for  a  new  top,  or  attractive  confection- 
ery, or  any  one  of  those  undetiuable  things  which  crowd 
a  boy's  pockets,  he  wants  money,  he  cannot  get  it.  He 
must  wait  until  the  first  of  the  month,  and  so  thrift  and 


106 


SATANIC  AGITATION. 


economy  are  cultivated.  I  know  statistics  are  generally 
very  dry,  but  here  is  a  statistic  which  has  in  it  as  much 
spirit  as  anything  that  Thackeray  ever  wrote,  and  as 
much  sublimity  as  anything  John  Milton  ever  wrote: 
One  hundred  and  forty-three  thousand  boys  have  been 
assembled  in  these  newsboys'  lodging-houses  since  the 
establishment  of  the  institution;  twelve  thousand  have 
been  returned  to  friends,  and  fifteen  thousand  have 
deposited  in  this  great  box  over  $12,000;  while  many 
of  the  lads  have  been  prepared  for  usefulness,  becoming 
farmers,  mechanics,  merchants,  bankers,  clergymen,  law- 
yers, doctors,  judges  of  courts  even,  and  many  of  them 
prepared  for  heaven,  where  some  have  already  entered, 
confronting,  personally,  that  Christ  in  whose  compassion 
the  institution  was  established.  And  this  society  all  the 
time  transporting  the  lads  to  Western  farms.  No 
reformation  for  them  while  they  stay  in  the  dens  of  New 
York.  '  What  must  be  the  sensation  of  a  lad  who  has 
lived  all  his  days  in  Elm  street,  or  Water  street,  when 
he  wakes  up  on  the  Iowa  prairie,  with  one  hundred  miles 
room  on  all  sides?  One  of  these  lads,  getting  out  West, 
wrote  a  letter,  descriptive  of  the  place,  and  urging  others 
to  come.    He  said: 

"  I  am  getting  along  first  rate.  I  am  on  probation  in  the  Methodist 
Church.  I  will  be  entered  as  a  member  the  first  of  next  month.  I 
now  teach  a  Sunday-school  class  of  eleven  boys.  I  get  along  first  rate 
with  it.  This  is  a  splendid  country  to  make  a  living  in.  If  the  boys 
running  around  the  street  with  a  blacking-box  on  their  shoulder  or  a 
bundle  of  papers  under  their  arms  only  knew  what  high  old  times  we 
boys  have  out  here  they  wouldn't  hesitate  about  coming  West,  but 
come  the  first  chance  they  got." 

And  to  show  the  brightness  of  some  of  these  lads,  one 
of  them  made  a  little  speech  to  his  comrades  just  as  he 
was  about  to  start  West,  saying  to  his  friends  whom  he 
was  about  to  leave: 


SATANIC  AGITATION. 


107 


"Boys  and  gentlemen,  perhaps  you  would  like  to  hear  sum'at 
about  the  West,  the  great  West,  you  know,  where  so  many  of  our  old 
friends  are  settled  down  and  going  to  be  great  men;  some  of  the 
greatest  men  in  the  great  Republic.  Boys,  that's  the  place  for  grow- 
ing  Congressmen,  and  Governors,  and  Presidents.  Do  you  want  to 
be  newsboys  always,  and  shoeblacks,  and  timber  merchants  in  a 
small  way,  by  selling  matches  ?  If  you  do,  you  will  stay  in  New 
York,  but  if  you  don't,  you  will  go  out  West  and  begin  to  be  farmers; 
for  the  beginning  of  a  farmer,  my  boys,  is  the  making  of  a  Congress- 
man and  a  President.  If  you  want  to  be  loafers  all  your  days,  you 
will  hang  up  your  caps,  and  play  around  the  groceries,  and  join  lire- 
engine  and  truck  companies ;  but  if  you  want  to  be  the  man  who  will 
make  his  mark  in  the  country,  you  will  get  up  steam  and  go  ahead. 
There  is  lots  of  the  prairies  waiting  for  you.  You  haven't  any  idea 
of  what  you  may  be  yet,  if  you  will  take  a  bit  of  my  advice.  How 
do  you  know  but  if  you  are  honest  and  good  and  industrious,  you 
may  get  so  much  up  in  the  ranks  that  you  will  not  have  a  general  or 
a  judge  your  boss  ?  You  will  be  lifted  on  horseback  when  you  go  to 
take  a  ride  on  the  prairies,  and  if  you  choose  to  go  in  a  wagon,  or  on 
an  excursion,  you  will  find  that  the  hard  times  don't  touch  you 
there,  and  the  best  of  all  will  be  that  if  it  is  good  to-day  it  will  be 
better  to-morrow." 

Is  not  a  lad  like  that  worth  saving?  There  are  thou- 
sands of  them  in  New  York.  God  have  mercy  on 
them ! 

As  I  came  down  off  the  steps  of  that  benevolent  insti- 
tution, I  said,  "Surely,  the  evils  of  our  cities  are  not  more 
wonderful  than  their  charities."  Then  I  started  out 
through  New  Bowery,  and  I  came  to  the  sign  of  the 
Howard  Mission,  famous  on  earth  and  in  heaven  for  the 
fact  that  through  it  so  many  Christian  merchants  and 
bankers,  and  philanthropists  have  saved  multitudes  of 
boys  and  girls  from  eternal  calamity.  Last  summer 
that  institution,  taking  some  children  one  or  two  hun- 
dred miles  into  the  country  to  be  taken  care  of  gratui- 
tously for  two  or  three  weeks  on  farms,  the  train  stopped 
at  the  depot,  and  one  lad,  who  had  never  seen  a  green 
field,  rushed  out  and  gathered  up  the  grass  and  the 


108 


SATANIC  AGITATION. 


flowers,  and  came  back,  and  then  took  out  a  penny,  his 
entire  fortune,  and  handed  it  to  the  overseer,  and  said, 
"Here,  take  that  penny  and  bring  out  more  boys  to  see 
the  flowers  and  the  country."  Seated  on  the  platform 
of  the  Howard  Mission  that  night,  looking  off  upon  these 
rescued  children,  I  said  within  myself,  "Who  can  esti- 
mate the  reward  for  both  worlds  to  these  people  who  put 
their  energies  in  such  a  Christ-like  undertaking  ?"  What 
a  monument  for  Joseph  Hoxie  and  Mr.  Yan  Meter,  the 
counselors  of  the  institution  in  the  past,  and  for  A.  S. 
Hatch  and  H.  E.  Tompkins,  its  advisers  at  the  present, 
and  thousands  of  people  who  in  giving  food  through 
that  institution  have  fed  Christ,  and  in  donating  gar- 
ments have  clothed  Christ,  and  in  sheltering  the  wan- 
dering have  housed  Christ!  God  will  pursue  such  men 
and  women  with  His  mercy  to  the  edge  of  the  pillow  on 
which  they  die,  and  then,  on  the  other  side  of  the  gate, 
He  will  give  them  a  reception  that  will  make  all  heaven 
echo  and  re-echo  with  their  deeds.  But  oh  !  how  much 
work — herculean,  yea,  omnipotent  work — before  all  this 
vagrancy  is  ended  !  It  is  an  authentic  statistic  that  in 
this  cluster  of  cities  there  are  eighty  thousand  peoplo 
over  ten  years  of  age  who  cannot  write  their  names. 
Then  what  must  be  the  ignorance  of  the  multitudes 
under  that  age  ? 

But  1  said  to  the  driver,  "We  must  hasten  out  on 
Broadway,  for  it  is  just  the  time  when  all  the  righteous 
and  unrighteous  places  of  amusement  will  be  disband- 
ing, and  we  shall  see  the  people  going  up  and  down  the 
streets.  Coming  from  all  sides,  these  are  the  great  tides 
of  life  and  death.  .  The  last  orchestra  had  played.  The 
curtain  had  dropped  at  the  end  of  the  play.  The 
audiences  of  the  concerts  in  the  churches  and  the  acade- 
mies had  all  dispersed,  moving  up  and  down  the  street. 


8ATANIC  AGITATION. 


109 


Good  amusements  are  very  good.  Bad  amusements  are 
very  bad.  He  who  paints  a  fine  picture,  or  who  sculp- 
tures a  beautiful  statue,  or  sings  a  healthful  song,  or 
rouses  an  innocent  laugh,  or  in  any  way  cuts  the  strap  of 
the  burden  of  care  on  the  world's  shoulder,  is  a  bene- 
factor, and  in  the  name  of  God  I  bless  him;  but  between 
Canal  street  and  Fourteenth  street  there  are  enough 
places  of  iniquitous  amusement  to  keep  all  the  world  of 
darkness  in  perpetual  holiday.  In  fifteen  minutes,  on 
any  street  almost  of  our  city,  you  may  find  enough  vicious 
amusements  to  invoke  all  the  sulphur  and  brimstone 
that  overwhelmed  Sodom.  The  more  than  three  hun- 
dred miles  of  Croton  water  pipes  underlying  New  York 
city,  emptied  on  these  polluted  places,  could  not  wash 
them  clean  !  You  see  the  people  coming  out  flushed 
with  the  strychnine  wine  taken  in  the  recesses  of  the 
programme — some  of  the  people  in  companionship  that 
insures  their  present  and  eternal  discomfiture,  turning 
off  from  Broadway  on  the  narrow  streets  running  off 
either  side!  The  recording  angel  shivered  with  horror 
as  he  penned  their  destiny. 

Looking  out  of  the  carriage,  I  saw  a  tragedy  on  the 
corner  of  Broadway  and  Houston  street.  A  young  man, 
evidently  doubting  as  to  which  direction  he  had  better 
take,  his  hat  lifted  high  enough  so  you  could  see  he  had 
an  intelligent  forehead,  stout  chest;  he  had  a  robust 
development.  Splendid  young  man.  Cultured  young  man. 
Honored  young  man.  Why  did  he  stop  there  while 
so  many  were  going  up  and  down  ?  The  fact  is,  that 
every  man  has  a  good  angel  and  a  bad  angel  contending 
for  the  mastery  of  his  spirit,  and  there  was  a  good  angel 
and  a  bad  angel  struggling  with  that  young  man's  soul 
at  the  corner  of  Broadway  and  Houston  street.  "Come 
with  me,"  said  the  good  angel;  "  I  will  take  you  home; 


110 


SATANIC  AGITATION. 


I  will  spread  my  wing  over  your  pillow;  I  will  lovingly 
escortyou  all  through  life  under  supernatural  protection; 
I  will  bless  every  cup  you  drink  out  of,  every  couch  you 
rest  on,  every  doorway  you  enter;  I  will  consecrate  your 
tears  when  you  weep,  your  sweat  when  you  toil,  and  at 
the  last  I  will  hand  over  your  grave  into  the  hand  of  the 
bright  angel  of  a  Christian  resurrection.  In  answer  to 
your  father's  petition  and  your  mother's  prayer,  I  have 
been  sent  of  the  Lord  out  of  heaven  to  be  your  guardian 
spirit.  Come  with  me,"  said  the  good  angel,  in  a  voice 
of  unearthly  symphony.  It  was  music  like  that  which 
drops  from  a  lute  of  heaven  when  a  seraph  breathes  on 
it.  "  No,  no,"  said  the  bad  angel,  "  come  with  me;  I 
have  something  better  to  offer;  the  wines  I  pour  are  from 
chalices  of  bewitching  carousal;  the  dance  I  lead  is  over 
floor  tessellated  with  unrestrained  indulgencies;  there  is 
no  God  to  frown  on  the  temples  of  sin  where  I  worship. 
The  skies  are  Italian.  The  paths  I  tread  are  through 
meadows,  daisied  and  primrosed.  Come  with  me."  The 
young  man  hesitated  at  a  time  when  hesitation  was  ruin, 
and  the  bad  angel  smote  the  good  angel  until  it  departed, 
spreading  wings  through  the  starlight  upward  and  away, 
until  a  door  flashed  open  in  the  sky  and  forever  the  wings 
vanished.  That  was  the  turning  point  in  that  young 
man's  history;  for,  the  good  angel  flown,  he  hesitated  no 
longer,  but  started  on  a  pathway  which  is  beautiful  at 
the  opening,  but  blasted  at  the  last.  The  bad  angel, 
leading  the  way,  opened  gate  after  gate,  and  at  each  gate 
the  road  became  rougher  and  the  sky  more  lurid,  and 
what  was  peculiar,  as  the  gate  slammed  shut  it  came  to 
with  a  jar  that  indicated  that  it  would  never  open.  Passed 
each  portal,  there  was  a  grinding  of  locks  and  a  shoving 
of  bolts;  and  the  scenery  on  either  side  the  road  changed 
from  gardens  to  deserts,  and  the  June  air  became  a  cut- 
ting December  blast,  and  the  bright  wings  of  the  bad 


SATANIC  AGITATION. 


Ill 


angel  turned  to  sackcloth,  and  the  eyes  of  light  became 
hollow  with  hopeless  grief,  and  the  fountains,  that  at  the 
start  had  tossed  with  wine,  poured  forth  bubbling  tears 
and  foaming  blood,  and  on  the  right  side  the  road  there 
was  a  serpent,  and  the  man  said  to  the  bad  angel,  u  What 
is  that  serpent?"  and  the  answer  was,  "That  is  the  ser- 
pent of  stinging  remorse."  On  the  left  side  the  road 
there  was  a  lion,  and  the  man  asked  the  bad  angel, 
"  What  is  that  lion  ?"  and  the  answer  was,  "  That  is  the 
lion  of  all-devouring  despair."  A  vulture  flew  through 
the  sky,  and  the  man  asked  the  bad  angel,  "  What  is  that 
vulture?"  and  the  answer  was,  "That  is  the  vulture 
waiting  for  the  carcasses  of  the  slain."  And  then  the 
man  began  to  try  to  pull  off  of  him  the  folds  of  some- 
thing that  had  wound  him  round  and  round,  and  he  said 
to  the  bad  angel,  "  What  is  it  that  twists  me  in  this  awful 
convolution?"  and  the  answer  was,  "That  is  the  worm 
that  never  dies!"  And  then  the  man  said  to  the  bad 
angel,  "  What  does  all  this  mean?  I  trusted  in  what  you 
said  at  the  corner  of  Broadway  and  Houston  street;  I 
trusted  it  all,  and  why  have  you  thus  deceived  me?" 
Then  the  last  deception  fell  off  the  charmer,  and  it  said, 
"I  was  sent  forth  from  the  pit  to  destroy  your  soul;  I 
watched  my  chance  for  many  a  long  year;  when  you 
hesitated  that  night  on  Broadway  I  gained  my  triumph; 
now  you  are  here.  Ha!  ha!  You  are  here.  Come,  now, 
let  us  fill  these  two  chalices  of  fire,  and  drink  together 
to  darkness  and  woe  and  death.  Hail!  Hail!"  Oh! 
young  man,  will  the  good  angel  sent  forth  by  Christ,  or 
the  bad  angel  sent  forth  by  sin,  get  the  victory  over 
your  soul?  Their  wings  are  interlocked  this  moment 
above  you,  contending  for  your  destiny,  as  above  the 
Appenines,  eagle  and  condor  fight  mid-sky.  This  hour 
may  decide  your  destiny.  God  help  you.  To  hesitate 
is  to  die! 


112 


AMONG  THIEVES  AND  ASSASSINS. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

AMONG  THIEVES  AND  ASSASSINS. 

A  certain  man  went  down  from  J erusalem  to  Jericho,  and  fell 
among  thieves,  which  stripped  him  of  his  raiment  and  wounded  him, 
and  departed,  leaving  him  half  dead.— St.  Luke  x:  30. 

This  attack  of  highwaymen  was  in  a  rocky  ravine, 
which  gives  to  robbers  a  first-rate  chance.  So  late  as 
1820,  on  that  very  road,  an  English  traveler  was  shot 
and  robbed.  This  wayfarer  of  the  text  not  only  lost  his 
money  and  his  apparel,  but  nearly  lost  his  life.  His 
assailants  were  not  only  thieves,  but  assassins.  The 
scene  of  this  lonely  road  from  Jerusalem  to  Jericho  is 
repeated  every  night  in  onr  great  cities — men  falling 
among  thieves,  getting  wounded,  and  left  half  dead.  In 
this  series  of  Sabbath  morning  discourses  on  the 
night  side  of  city  life,  as  I  have  recently  explored  it> 
I  have  spoken  to  you  of  the  night  of  pauperism,  the 
night  of  debauchery  and  shame,  the  night  of  official 
neglect  and  bribery,  and  now  I  come  to  speak  to 
you  of  the  night  of  theft,  the  night  of  burglary,  the 
night  of  assassination,  the  night  of  pistol  and  dirk 
and  bludgeon.  You  say,  what  can  there  be  in  such  a 
subject  for  me?  Then  you  remind  me  of  the  man  who 
asked  Christ  the  question,  "Who  is  my  neighbor?"  and 
in  the  reply  of  the  text,  Christ  is  setting  forth  the  idea 
that  wherever  there  is  a  man  in  trouble,  there  is  your 
neighbor;  and  before  I  get  through  this  morning,  if  the 
Lord  will  help  me,  I  will  show  you  that  you  have  some 
very  dangerous  neighbors,  and  I  will  show  you  also  what 


AMONG  THIEVES  AND  ASSASSINS. 


113 


is  your  moral  responsibility  before  God  in  regard  to 
them. 

I  said  to  the  chief  official,  "G  ive  me  two  stout  detec- 
tives for  this  night's  work — men  who  are  not  only  mus- 
cular, but  who  iook  muscular."  I  said  to  these  detec- 
tives before  we  started  on  our  midnight  exploration, 
"Have  you  loaded  pistols?"  and  they  brought  forth 
their  firearms  and  their  clubs,  showing  that  they  were 
ready  for  anything.  Then  I  said,  "Show  me  crime; 
show  me  crime  in  the  worst  shape,  the  most  villainous 
and  outrageous  crime.  In  other  words  show  me  the 
worst  classes  of  people  to  be  saved  by  the  power  of 
Christ's  gospel."  I  took  with  me  only  two  officers  of 
the  law,  for  I  want  no  one  to  run  any  risk  in  my  behalf, 
and,  having  undertaken  to  show  up  the  lowest  depths  of 
society,  I  felt  I  must  go  on  until  I  had  completed  the 
work.  One  of  the  officers  proposed  to  me  that  I  take  a 
disguise  lest  I  be  assailed.  I  said,  "  !No;  I  am  going  on 
a  mission  of  Christian  work,  and  I  am  going  to  take  the 
risks,  and  I  shall  go  as  I  am."  And  so  I  went.  You  say  to 
me,  k*Why  didn't  you  first  look  after  the  criminal  classes 
in  Brooklyn?"  I  answer,  it  was  not  for  any  lack  of  mate- 
rial. Last  year,  in  the  city  of  Brooklyn,  there  were 
nearly  27,000  arrests  for  crime.  Two  hundred  burglaries. 
Thirteen  homicides.  Twenty-seven  highway  robberies. 
Forty  thousand  lodgers  in  the  station  houses.  Three 
hundred  and  thirty-six  scoundrels  who  had  their  pictures 
taken  for  the  Rogues  Gallery,  without  any  expense  to 
those  who  sat  for  the  pictures!  Two  hundred  thousand 
dollars'  worth  of  property  stolen.  Every  kind  of  crime, 
from  manslaughter  to  chicken  thief.  Indeed,  I  do  not 
think  there  is  any  place  in  the  land  where  you  can  more 
easily  get  your  pocket  picked,  or  your  house  burglarized, 
or  your  signature  counterfeited,  or  your  estate  swindled, 
8 


114 


AMONG  THIEVES  AND  ASSASSINS. 


than  in  Brooklyn;  but  crime  here  is  on  a  comparatively 
6mall  scale,  because  we  are  a  smaller  city.  The  great 
depots  of  crime  for  this  cluster  of  cities  are  in  New  York. 
It  is  a  better  hiding-place,  the  city  is  so  vast,  and  all 
officers  tell  us  that  when  a  crime  is  committed  in  Jersey 
City,  or  is  committed  in  Brooklyn,  the  villain  attempts 
immediately  to  cross  the  ferry.  While  Brooklyn's  sin 
is  as  enterprising  as  is  possible  for  the  number  of  in- 
habitants, crowd  one  million  people  on  an  island,  and 
you  have  a  stage  and  an  audience  on  which  and  before 
whom  crime  may  enact  its  worst  tragedies. 

There  was  nothing  that  more  impressed  me  on  that 
terrible  night  of  exploration  than  the  respect  which 
crime  pays  to  law  when  it  is  really  confronted.  Why 
do  those  eight  or  ten  desperadoes  immediately  stop  their 
blasphemy  and  their  uproar  and  their  wrangling?  It  is 
because  an  officer  of  the  law  calmly  throws  back  the  lap- 
pel  of  his  coat  and  shows  the  badge  of  authority.  The 
fact  is  that  government  is  ordained  of  heaven,  and  just 
so  far  as  the  police  officer  does  his  duty,  just  so  far  is  he 
a  deputy  of  the  Lord  Almighty.  That  is  the  reason 
Inspector  Murray,  of  New  York,  sometimes  goes  in  and 
arrests  four  or  five  desperadoes.  He  is  a  man  of  com- 
paratively slight  stature,  yet  when  one  is  backed  up  by 
omnipotent  justice  he  can  do  anything.  I  said,  ''What 
is  this  glazed  window,  and  who  are  these  mysterious 
people  going  in  and  then  coming  out  and  passing  down 
the  street,  looking  to  the  pavement,  and  keeping  a  regu- 
lar step  until  they  hear  a  quick  step  behind  them,  and 
then  darting  down  an  alley?"  This  place,  in  the  night 
of  our  exploration,  was  what  the  Bible  calls  "a  den  of 
thieves."  They  will  not  admit  it.  You  cannot  prove 
it  against  them,  for  the  reason  that  the  keeper  and  the 
patrons  are  the  acutest  men  in  the  city.    No  sign  of 


AMONG  THIEVES  AND  ASSASSINS. 


115 


6tolen  goods,  no  loud  talk  about  misdemeanors,  but  here 
a  table  surrounded  by  three  or  four  persons  whispering; 
yonder  a  table  surrounded  by  three  or  four  more  per- 
sons whispering;  before  each  man  a  mug  of  beer  or 
stronger  intoxicant.  He  will  not  drink  to  unconscious- 
ness; he  will  only  drink  to  get  his  courage  up  to  the 
point  of  recklessness,  all  the  while  managing  to  keep  his 
eye  clear  and  his  hand  steady.  These  men  around  this 
table  are  talking  over  last  night's  exploit;  their  narrow 
escape  from  the  basement  door;  how  nearly  they  fell 
from  the  window-ledge  of  the  second  story;  how  the  bul- 
let grazed  the  hair.  What  is  this  bandaged  hand  you 
see  in  that  room?  That  was  cut  by  the  window-glass  as 
the  burglar  thrust  his  hand  through  to  the  inside  fasten- 
ing. How  did  that  man  lose  his  eye?  It  was  destroyed 
three  years  ago  by  a  premature  flash  of  gunpowder  in  a 
store  lock.  Who  are  these  three  or  four  surrounding 
this  other  table?  They  are  planning  for  to-night's  vil- 
lainy. They  know  just  what  hour  the  last  member  of 
the  family  will  retire.  They  are  in  collusion  with  the 
servant,  who  has  promised  to  leave  one  of  the  back  win- 
dows open.  They  know  at  what  time  the  man  of  wealth 
will  leave  his  place  of  dissipation  and  start  for  home, 
and  they  are  arranging  it  how  they  shall  come  out  of 
the  dark  alley  and  bring  him  down  with  a  slungshot. 
No  sign  of  desperation  in  this  room  of  thieves,  and  yet 
how  many  false  keys,  how  many  ugly  pocket-knives, 
how  many  brass  knuckles,  how  many  revolvers!  A  few 
vulgar  pictures  on  the  wall,  and  the  inevitable  bar.  Rum 
they  must  have  to  rest  them  after  the  exciting  maraud- 
ing. Rum  they  must  have  before  they  start  on  the  new 
expedition  of  arson  and  larceny  and  murder.  But  not 
ordinary  rum.  It  is  poisoned  four  times.  Poisoned 
first  by  the  manufacturer;  poisoned  secondly  by  the 


116 


AMONG  THIEVES  AND  ASSASSINS. 


wholesale  dealer;  poisoned  thirdly  by  the  retail  dealer; 
poisoned  fourthly  by  the  saloon-keeper.  Poisoned  four 
times,  it  is  just  right  to  fit  one  for  cruelty  and  despera- 
tion. These  men  have  calculated  to  the  last  quarter  of 
a  glass  how  much  they  need  to  take  to  qualify  them  for 
their  work.  They  must  not  take  a  drop  too  much  nor  a 
drop  too  little.  These  are  the  professional  criminals  of 
the  city,  between  twenty-three  and  twenty-four  hundred 
of  them,  in  this  cluster  of  cities.  They  are  as  thoroughly 
drilled  in  crime  as,  for  good  purposes,  medical  colleges 
■  train  doctors,  law  colleges  train  lawyers,  theological 
seminaries  train  clergymen.  These  criminals  have  been 
apprentices  and  journeymen;  but  now  they  are  boss 
workmen.  They  have  gone  through  the  freshman, 
sophomore,  junior  and  senior  classes  of  the  great  uni- 
versity of  crime,  and  have  graduated  with  diplomas 
signed  by  all  the  faculty  of  darkness.  They  have  no 
ambition  for  an  easy  theft,  or  an  unskilled  murder,  or  a 
blundering  blackmail.  They  must  have  something  dif- 
ficult. They  must  have  in  their  enterprise  the  excite- 
ment of  peril.  They  must  have  something  that  will  give 
them  an  opportunity  of  bravado.  They  must  do  some- 
thing which  amateurs  in  crime  dare  not  do.  These  are 
the  bank  robbers,  about  sixty  of  them  in  this  cluster  of 
cities — men  who  somehow  get  in  the  bank  during  the 
daytime,  then  at  night  spring  out  upon  the  watchman, 
fasten  him,  and  for  the  whole  night  have  deliberate 
examination  of  the  cashier's  books  to  see  whether  he 
keeps  his  accounts  correctly.  These  are  the  men  who 
come  in  to  examine  the  directory  in  the  back  part  of 
your  store  while  their  accomplices  are  in  the  front  part 
of  the  store  engaging  you  in  conversation,  then  drop- 
ping the  directory  and  investigating  the  money  safe. 
These  are  the  forgers  who  get  one  of  your  canceled 


AMONG  THIEVES  AND  ASSASSINS. 


117 


checks  and  one  of  your  blank  checks,  and  practice  on  the 
writing  of  yonr  name  until  the  deception  is  as  perfect  as 
the  counterfeit  check  of  Cornelius  Vanderbilt,  indorsed 
by  Henry  Keep,  in  1870,  for  $75,000,  which  check  was  im- 
mediately cashed  at  the  City  Bank.  These  are  the  pick- 
pockets, six  hundred  of  them  in  this  cluster  of  cities, 
who  sit  beside  you  in  the  stage  and  help  you  pass  up  the 
change!  They  stand  beside  you  when  you  are  shopping, 
and  help  you  examine  the  goods,  and  weep  beside  you  at 
the  funeral,  and  sometimes  bow  their  heads  beside  you 
in  the  house  of  God,  doing  their  work  with  such  adroit- 
ness that  your  affliction  at  the  loss  of  the  money  is  some- 
what mitigated  by  your  appreciation  of  the  skill  of  the 
operator!  The  most  successful  of  these  are  females, 
and,  I  suppose,  on  the  theory  that  if  a  woman  is  good 
she  is  better  than  man,  and  if  she  is  bad  she  is  worse. 
She  stands  so  much  higher  up  than  man  that  when  she 
falls  she  falls  further.  Some  of  these  criminals,  pick- 
pockets, and  thieves  also  take  the  garb  of  clergymen. 
They  look  like  doctors  of  divinity.  With  coats  buttoned 
clear  up  to  the  chin,  and  white  cravated,  they  look  as  if 
they  were  just  going  to  pronounce  the  benediction, 
while  they  are  all  the  time  wondering  where  your  watch 
is,  or  your  portmonnaie  is. 

A  thousand  of  the  professional  criminals  do  nothing 
but  snatch  things.  They  go  in  pairs,  one  of  them  keep- 
ing your  attention  in  one  part  of  the  store,  the  other 
doing  a  lively  business  in  another  part  of  the  store.  At 
one  end  of  the  establishment  the  proprietor  is  smiling 
graciously  on  one  who  seems  to  be  an  exquisite  lady, 
while  in  another  part  of  the  same  establishment  a  roll  of 
goods  is  taken  up  by  a  copartner  in  crime  and  put  in  a 
crocodile  pocket,  large  enough  to  swallow  everything. 
These  professional  criminals  are  the  men  who  break  in, 


118 


AMONG  THIEVES  AND  ASSASSINS. 


the  windows  of  jewelry  stores  and  snatch  the  jewels,  and 
before  the  clerks  have  an  opportunity  of  knowing  what 
is  the  excitement  are  a  block  away,  looking  innocent, 
ready  to  come  back  and  join  in  the  pursuit  of  the  offend- 
er, shouting  with  stentorian  voice,  "Stop,  thief!"  You 
wonder  whether  these  people  get  large  accumulation. 
No.  Of  the  largest  haul  they  get  only  a  fifth,  or  a  sixth, 
or  a  seventh  part,  It  is  the  receiver  of  stolen  goods  that 
gets  the  profit.  If  these  men  during  the  course  of  their 
lives  should  get  $50,000  they  will  live  poor,  and  die 
poor,  and  be  poor  to  all  eternity.  Among  these  profes- 
sional criminals  in  our  cities  are  the  blackmailers — those 
who  would  have  you  pay  a  certain  amount  of  money  or 
have  your  character  tarnished.  If  you  are  guilty  I  have 
no  counsel  to  give  in  this  matter;  but  if  you  are  innocent 
'let  me  say  that  no  one  of  integrity  need  ever  fear  the 
blackmailer.  All  you  have  to  do  is  to  put  the  case  im- 
mediately in  the  hands  of  Superintendent  Walling  of  the 
New  York  police,  or  Superintendent  Campbell  of  the 
Brooklyn  police,  and  you  will  be  vindicated.  Depend 
upon  it,  however,  that  every  dollar  you  pay  to  a  black- 
mailer is  toward  your  own  everlasting  enthrallment.  A 
man  in  a  cavern  fighting  a  tigress  might  as  well  consent 
to  give  the  tigress  his  right  hand,  letting  her  eat  it  up, 
with  the  supposition  that  she  would  let  him  off  with  the 
rest  of  his  body,  as  for  you  to  pay  anything  to  a  black- 
mailer with  the  idea  of  getting  your  character  cleared. 
The  thing  to  be  done  is  to  have  the  tigress  shot,  and  that, 
the  law  is  willing  to  do.  Let  me  lay  down  a  principle 
you  can  put  in  your  memorandum  books,  and  put  in  the 
front  part  of  your  Bible,  and  in  the  back  part  of  your 
Bible,  and  put  in  your  day-book,  and  put  in  your  ledger — 
this  principle:  that  no  man's  character  is  ever  sacrificed 
until  he  sacrifices  it  himself.    But  you  surrender  your 


AMONG  THIEVES  AND  ASSASSINS. 


119 


reputation,  your  fortune,  your  home,  and  your  immortal 
soul,  when  you  pay  a  farthing  to  a  blackmailer. 

Who  are  these  men  in  this  room  at  Hook  Dock,  or  at 
the  foot  of  Roosevelt  street?  They  are  professional  crimi- 
nals. Under  the  cover  of  the  night  they  go  down  through 
the  bay,  or  up  and  down  the  rivers.  Finding  two  men 
in  a  row  boat  going  to  some  steamer,  or  to  one  of  the  ad- 
joining islands,  they  board  the  boat,  rob  the  two  men  of 
their  money,  and,  if  they  seem  unreasonably  opposed  to 
giving  up  their  money,  taking  their  lives  and  giving 
them  watery  graves.  These  are  the  men  who  lounge 
around  the  solitary  pier  at  night,  and  who  clamber  up  on 
the  side  of  the  vessel  lying  at  wharf,  and,  finding  the 
captain  asleep  give  him  chloroform  to  help  him  sleep, 
and  then  knock  the  watchman  overboard  and  take  the 
valuables.  Of  this  class  were  Howlett  and  Saul,  who  by 
twenty-one  years  of  age  had  become  the  terror  of  the 
twenty-one  miles  of  New  York  city  water  front,  and  who 
wound  up  their  piracy  by  a  murder  on  the  bark  "Thomas 
Watson,"  and  crossed  the  gallows,  relieving  the  world  of 
their  existence. 

But  in  all  these  dens  of  thieves  we  find  those  who  ex- 
cite only  our  pity — people  flung  off  the  steeps  of  decent 
society.  Having  done  wrong  once,  in  despair  they  went 
to  the  bottom.  Of  such  was  that  man  who  last  Wednes- 
day, in  New  York,  stole  a  roll  of  goods,  went  to  the  sta- 
tion-house, said  he  was  hungry,  and  asked  to  be  sent  to 
prison.  Of  such  are  those  young  men  who  make  false 
entries  in  the  account-book,  resolved  to  "fix  it  up;"  or 
who  surreptitiously  borrow  from  the  commercial  estab- 
lishment, expecting  to  "fix  it  up;"  but  sickness  comes, 
or  accident  comes,  or  a  conjunction  of  unexpected  circum- 
stances, and  they  never  "fix  it  up." 

In  disgrace  they  go  down.    Oh!  how  many,  by  force  of 


120 


AMONG  THIEVES  AND  ASSASSINS. 


circumstances,  and  at  the  start  with  no  very  bad  idea,  get 
off  the  track  and  perish.  A  gentleman  sitting  in  this 
assemblage  this  morning  told  me  of  an  incident  which 
occurred  in  a  large  commercial  establishment,!  believe  the 
fourth  in  size  in  the  whole  country.  The  employer  said 
to  a  young  lady  in  the  establishment,  "You  must  dress 
better."  She  said,  "I  cannot  dress  better;  I  get  $6  a 
week,  and  I  pay  $4:  for  my  board,  and  I  have  $2  for  dress 
and  for  my  car  fare;  I  cannot  dress  better."  Then  he 
said,  "You  must  get  it  in  some  other  way."  Well,  I 
suppose  she  could  steal.  I  do  not  know  how  that  inci- 
dent affects  you;  but  when  it  was  told  to  me  it  made 
every  drop  of  my  blood,  from  scalp  to  heel,  tingle  with 
indignation.  The  fact  is  that  there  are  thousands  of  men 
and  women  dropping  into  dishonesty  and  crime  by  force 
of  circumstances,  and  by  their  destitution.  Under  the 
same  kind  of  pressure  you  and  I  would  have  perished. 
It  is  despicable  to  stand  on  shore  laughing  at  the  ship- 
wrecked struggling  in  the  breakers  when  we  ought  to  be 
getting  out  the  rockets  and  the  lifeboat  and  the  ropes 
from  the  wrecking  establishment.  How  much  have  you 
ever  done  to  get  this  class  ashore?  In  our  city  of  Brook- 
lyn we  grip  them  of  the  police.  Then  we  hustle  them 
into  a  court  room  amid  a  great  crowd  of  gaping  specta- 
tors. Then  we  throw  them  into  the  worst  jail  on  the 
continent — Raymond  Street  Jail.  We  put  them  in  there 
with  three  or  four  confirmed  criminals,  and  then  actu- 
ally deny  $500  to  the  chaplain,  who  is  giving  his  time 
for  the  alleviation  of  their  condition,  and  putting  our 
refusal  of  the  $500  on  the  ground  that  if  we  support 
that  thing  in  the  penitentiary,  and  if  we  have  religious 
services  there  it  will  be  so  much  like  uniting  church  and 
State! 

"But,"  says  some  one  at  this  point  in  my  discourse, 


AMONG  THIEVES  AND  ASSASSINS. 


121 


"where  does  all  this  crime  come  from?"  Let  me  tell 
you  that  New  York  is  now  paying  for  the  political  dis- 
honesties of  ten  years  ago.  Do  yon  believe  that  the 
political  iniquities  of  1868,  1869,  1870,  and  1871  could 
be  enacted  in  any  city  without  demoralizing  the  com- 
munity from  top  to  bottom?  Look  at  the  sham  elec- 
tions of  1S68  and  1869.  Think  of  those  times  when  a 
criminal  was  auditor  of  public  accounts,  and  honorable 
gentlemen  in  the  legal  profession  were  put  out  of  sight 
by  shyster  lawyers,  and  some  of  the  police  magistrates 
were  worse  than  the  criminals  arraigned  before  them, 
and  when  the  most  notorious  thief  since  the  creation  of 
the  world,  was  a  State  Senator,  holding  princely  levee  at 
the  Delevan  House  at  Albany.  Ah!  my  friends,  those 
were  the  times  when  thousands  of  men  were  put  on  the 
wrong  track.  They  said:  "Why,  what's  the  use  of 
honest  work  when  knavery  declares  such  large  divi- 
dends? What's  the  use  of  my  going  afoot  in  shoes  I 
have  to  pay  for  myself,  when  1  can  have  gilded  livery 
sweeping  through  Broadway  supported  by  public  funds?" 
The  rule  was,  as  far  as  I  remember  it:  Get  an  office 
with  a  large  salary;  if  you  cannot  get  an  office  with  a 
large  salary,  get  an  office  with  a  small  salary,  and  then 
steal  all  you  can  lay  your  hands  on,  and  call  them  "per- 
quisites;" and  then  give  subordinate  offices  to  your 
friends,  and  let  them  help  you  on  with  the  universal 
swindle,  and  get  more  "perquisites."  Many  of  the  young 
men  of  the  cities  were  then  eighteen  years  of  age.  They 
saw  their  parents  hard  at  work  with  trowel  and  yard- 
stick and  pen,  getting  only  a  cramped  living,  while  those 
men  who  were  throwing  themselves  on  their  political 
wits  had  plenty  of  money  and  no  work.  Do  you  wonder 
that  thousands  adopted  a  life  of  dissipated  indolence? 
Ten  years  having  passed,  they  are  now  twenty-eight 


122 


AMONG  THIEVES  AND  ASSASSINS. 


years  of  age,  and  in  full  swing  of  vagabondism.  The 
putrid  politics  of  ten  years  ago  sowed  much  of  the  crop 
which  is  now  being  harvested  by  the  almshouse  and  the 
penitentiary.  But  you  say,  "What  is  the  practical  use 
of  this  subject  this  morning?  Have  I  any  relation  to 
it?"  You  have.  In  the  last  judgment  you  will  have  to 
give  answer  for  your  relation  to  it.  Through  all  eternity 
you  will  feel  the  consequences  of  your  relation  to  it.  I 
could  not  waste  my  time,  nor  your  time,  in  a  discussion 
if  there  were  not  some  practical  significance  to  it.  First 
of  all,  I  give  you  a  statistic  which  ought  to  make  every 
office- table,  and  every  counting-room  desk,  and  every 
money-safe  quake  and  tremble.  It  is  the  statistic  that 
larcenies  in  New  York  city,  directly  and  indirectly,  cost 
that  city  §6,000,000  per  year.  There  are  all  the  moneys 
taken,  in  the  first  place.  Then  there  are  the  prisons  and 
the  station-houses.  Then  there  are  the  courts.  Then 
there  is  the  vast  machinery  of  municipal  government  for 
the  arraignment  and  treatment  of  villainy.  "Why,  the 
Court  of  Sessions  and  the  police  courts  cost  the  city  of 
New  York  about  $200,000  per  year.  The  police  force 
directly  and  indirectly  costs  the  city  of  New  York  over 
$j?,000,000  a  year,  and  all  that  expenditure  puts  its  tax 
on  every  bill  of  lading,  on  every  }Tard  of  goods,  on  every 
parlor,  every  nursery,  every  store,  every  shop,  every  brick 
from  foundation  to  capstone,  every  foot  of  ground  from 
the  south  side  of  Castle  Garden  to  the  north  side  of  Cen- 
tral Park,  and  upon  all  Brooklyn,  and  upon  all  Jersey 
City,  for  the  reason  that  the  interests  of  these  cities  are 
so  interlocked  that  what  is  the  prosperity  of  one  is  the 
prosperity  of  all,  and  what  is  the  calamity  of  one  is  the 
calamity  of  all.  But  I  do  not,  this  morning,  address  you 
as  financiers.  I  address  you  as  moralists  and  Christian 
men  and  women,  who  before  God  have  a  responsibility 


AMONG  THIEVES  AND  ASSASSINS. 


123 


for  all  this  turpitude  and  scoundrelism,  unless  in  every 
possible  way  you  try  to  stop  it  and  redeem  it.  "Oh!" 
says  some  one  in  the  house,  "such  criminals  as  that  can- 
not be  reformed."  I  reply:  Then  you  are  stupidly  ig- 
norant of  Christianity.  Who  was  the  man  on  the  right- 
hand  cross  when  Jesus  was  expiring?  A  thief — a  dying 
thief.  Where  did  he  go  to?  To  heaven.  Christ  said  to 
him:  "This  day  thou  shalt  be  with  me  in  Paradise." 
In  that  most  conspicuous  moment  of  the  world's  history, 
Christ  demonstrating  to  all  ages  that  the  worst  criminal 
can  be  saved.  Who  is  that  man  in  the  Fourth  Ward, 
New  York,  preaching  the  gospel  every  night  of  the 
week,  and  preaching  it  all  the  year  round,  and  bringing 
more  drunkards  and  thieves  and  criminals  to  the  heart 
of  a  pardoning  God  than  any  twenty  churches  in  Brook- 
lyn or  New  York.  Jerry  McAuley,  the  converted  river 
thief.  That  man  took  me  to  his  front  window  the  other 
evening,  and  he  said,  "Do  you  see  that  grog-shop  over 
there?"  I  said,  "Yes;  I  see  it."  "Well,"  he  said,  "I 
once  was  pitched  out  of  that  by  the  proprietor  for  being 
drunken  and  noisy.  The  grace  of  God  has  done  a  great 
deal  for  me.  I  was  going  along  the  street  the  other  day, 
and  that  man  who  owned  that  groggery  then,  and  who 
owns  it  now,  wanted  a  favor  of  me,  and  he  called  to  me. 
He  did  not  call  me  drunken  Jerry;  but  he  said  Mister 
McAuley — Mister  McAuley !" 

O!  if  the  grace  of  God  could  do  as  much  for  that  man 
it  can  save  any  outcast.  If  not,  then  what  is  the  use  of 
Paul's  address  when  he  says,  ''Let  him  that  stole,  steal 
no  more"?  I  will  tell  you  something — I  do  not  care 
whether  you  like  it  or  not — that  at  last,  in  heaven,  there 
will  be  five  hundred  thousand  converted  thieves,  pick- 
pockets, gamblers,  debauchees,  murderers  and  outcasts, 
all  saved  by  the  grace  of  God,  washed  clean  and  prepared 


124 


AMONG  THIEVES  AND  ASSASSINS. 


for  glory.  That  exquisite  out  there  gives  a  twitch  to  his 
kid  glove,  and  that  lady  brings  the  skirt  of  her  silk  dress 
nearer  her,  as  though  she  were  afraid  of  having  that 
truth  tarnish  her.  "Why,"  says  some  one  in  the  house, 
"are  you  going  to  make  heaven  such  a  common  place  as 
that?"  I  do  not  make  it  common.  God  makes  it  com- 
mon. It  is  to  be  the  most  common  place  in  the  whole 
universe.  By  that  I  mean  they  are  going  to  come  up 
from  all  classes  and  conditions,  and  from  the  very  lowest 
depths  of  society,  washed  clean  by  the  grace  of  God,  and 
entering  heaven.  "But,"  say  some  people,  "what  am  I  to 
do 3"  I  will  tell  you  three  things,  anyhow,  you  can  do. 
First,  avoid  putting  people  in  your  employ  amid  too 
great  temptation.  You  can  take  a  young  man  in  your 
employ  and  put  him  in  a  position  where  nine  hundred 
and  ninety-nine  chances  out  of  a  thousand  are  that  he 
will  do  wrong.  Now,  I  say  you  have  no  right  to  do  that. 
If  you  have  any  mercy  on  the  criminal  classes,  and  if 
you  do  not  want  to  multiply  their  number,  look  out  how  , 
you  put  people  under  temptation.  In  the  second  place, 
you  can  do  this:  you  can  speak  a  cheerful  word  when  a 
man  wants  to  reform.  What  chance  is  there  for  those 
who  have  gone  astray?  Here  they  are  in  the  lowest 
depths  of  society,  first  of  all,  with  their  evil  proclivities; 
then,  with  their  evil  associations.  But  suppose  they 
conquer  these  evil  proclivities,  and  break  away  from 
them.  Now,  they  have  come  up  to  the  door  of  society. 
Who  will  let  them  in?  Will  you?  No;  you  dare  not. 
They  will  go  all  around  these  doors  of  decent  society, 
and  find  five  hundred,  and  knock — no  admittance;  and 
knock — no  admittance;  and  knock — no  admittance.  Now, 
I  say  it  is  your  duty  as  a  Christian  man  to  help  these 
people  when  they  want  to  come  up  and  come  back. 
There  is  a  third  thing  you  can  do,  and  that  is,  be  the 


AMONG  THIEVES  ANT)  ASSASSINS. 


125 


stanch  friends  of  prison  reform  associations,  home  mis- 
sionary societies,  children's  aid  societies,  and  all  those 
beneficent  institutions  which  are  trying  to  save  our  cities. 
But  perhaps  I  ought  to  do  my  own  work  now,  leaving 
yours  for  you  to  do  some  other  time.  I  will  now  do 
that  work.  Yery  probably  there  is  not  in  all  this  house 
one  person  who  is  known  as  a  criminal,  and  yet  I  sup- 
pose there  are  scores  of  persons  in  this  house  who  have 
done  wrong.  Now,  perhaps  I  may  meet  their  case 
healthfully  and  encouragingly  when  I  tell  them  what  I 
said  to  two  young  men.  One  young  man  said  to  me: 
"I  have  taken  from  my  employer  $2,500  in  small  amounts, 
but  amounting  to  that.  What  shall  I  do?"  I  said, 
"Pay  it  back."  He  said,  "I  can't  pay  it  back."  Then 
I  said,  "Get  your  friends  to  help  you  pay  it."  He 
said,  "I  have  no  friends  that  will  help  me."  Then  I 
said,  "I  will  give  you  two  items  of  advice:  First,  go 
home  and  kneel  down  before  God  and  ask  his  pardon. 
Then,  to-morrow  morning,  when  you  go  over  to  the  store, 
get  the  head  men  of  the  firm  in  the  private  office,  and 
tell  them  you  have  something  very  important  to  com- 
municate, and  let  the  door  be  locked.  Then  tell  the 
whole  story  and  ask  their  pardon.  If  they  are  decent 
men — not  to  say  any  thing  about  their  being  Christians 
or  not  Christians — if  they  are  decent  men,  they  will  for- 
give you  and  help  you  to  start  again."  "But,"  he  said, 
"suppose  they  don't?"  "Then,"  I  said,  "you  have  the 
Lord  Almighty  to  see  you  through,  and  no  man  ever 
flung  himself  at  Christ's  feet  but  he  was  helped  and  de- 
livered." Another  young  man  came  to  me  and  said,  "I 
have  taken  money  from  my  employer.  What  shall  I 
do?"  I  said,  "Pay  it  back."  "Well,"  he  said,  "I  took 
a  very  large  amount — I  nearly  paid  it  all  back."  I  said, 
"JSTow,  how  long  before  you  can  pay  it  all  back?"  "Well," 


126 


AMONG  THIEVES  AND  ASSASSINS. 


he  said,  "I  can  in  two  weeks,  but  my  conscience  disturb* 
me  very  much,  and  I  want  your  counsel."  It  was  a  del- 
icate case.  I  said  to  him,  "You  are  sure  you  can  pay  it 
in  two  weeks?"  "Yes;  but,"  he  said,  "suppose  I  die?"  I 
said  to  him:  "If  you  can  pay  that  all  up,  every  farthing 
of  it,  in  two  weeks,  pay  it,  and  God  don't  ask  you  to  dis- 
grace yourself,  or  your  family,  and  you  won't  die  in  two 
weeks.  I  see  by  the  way  you  have  been  paying  this  up 
that  you  are  going  to  be  delivered.  Ask  God's  pardon 
for  what  you  have  done,  and  never  do  so  again." 

It  is  very  easy  to  be  hard  in  making  a  rule,  but  I  say 
the  Gospel  of  Jesus  Christ  i3  a  gospel  of  mercy,  and 
wherever  you  find  anybody  in  trouble,  get  him  out. 
"Let  the  wicked  forsake  his  way,  and  the  unrighteous 
man  his  thoughts."  You  see,  I  am  preaching  a  verj 
practical  sermon  this  morning.  I  know  what  are  all  the 
temptations  of  business  life,  and  I  did  not  come  on  this 
platform  this  morning  to  discourage  anybody.  I  come 
to  speak  a  word  of  good  cheer  to  all  the  wandering  and 
the  lost,  and  I  believe  I  am  speaking  it.  The  fact  is, 
these  cities  are  going  to  be  redeemed.  You  know  there 
is  going  to  be  another  deluge.  "Why,"  you  say,  "I 
thought  the  rainbow  at  the  end  of  the  great  deluge, 
and  the  rainbow  after  every  shower,  was  a  sign  that 
there  would  never  be  a  deluge  again  !"  But  there 
will  be  another  deluge.  It  will  rain  more  than  forty 
days  and  forty  nights.  The  ark  that  will  float  that 
deluge  will  be  immeasurably  larger  than  Noah's  ark,  for 
it  will  hold  a  quadrillion  of  passengers.  It  will  be  the 
deluge  of  mercy,  and  the  ark  that  floats  that  deluge  will 
have  five  doors — one  at  the  north  to  let  in  the  frozen 
populations;  one  at  the  south  to  let  in  the  sweltering 
and  the  sunburned;  one  at  the  east  to  let  all  China  come 
in;  one  at  the  west,  to  let  America  in;  one  at  the  top, 


AMONG  THIEVES  AND  ASSASSINS. 


127 


to  let  Christ,  with  all  Lis  flashing  train  of  cherubim  and 
archangel  enter.  And,  as  the  rainbow  of  the  ancient 
deluge  gave  sign  that  there  would  never  be  a  deluge  of 
destruction  again,  so  the  rainbow  of  this  last  deluge  will 
give  sign  that  the  deluge  will  never  depart.  "  For  the 
knowledge  of  God  shall  cover  the  earth,  as  the  waters 
cover  the  sea."  Oh!  ship  of  salvation,  sail  on.  With  all 
thy  countless  freight  of  immortals,  put  for  the  eternal 
shore.  The  thunders  of  the  last  day  shall  be  the  can- 
nonade that  will  greet  you  into  the  harbor.  Church 
triumphant,  stretch  down  your  arms  of  light  across  the 
gangway  to  welcome  into  port,  church  militant.  "  Hal- 
lelujah I  for  the  Lord  God  omnipotent  reigneth."  Hal- 
lelujah I  Amen! 


128 


CLUB-HOUSES. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

CLUB-HOUSES— LEGITIMATE  AND  ILLEGITIMATE. 

Let  the  young  men  now  arise  and  play  before  us. — II.  Samuel  ii :  14 

There  are  two  armies  encamped  by  the  pool  of  Gibeon. 
The  time  hangs  heavily  on  their  hands.  One  army  pro- 
poses a  game  of  sword- fencing.  Nothing  could  be  more 
healthful  and  innocent.  The  other  army  accepts  the 
challenge.  Twelve  men  against  twelve  men,  the  sport 
opens.  But  something  went  adversely.  Perhaps  one 
of  the  swordsmen  got  an  unlucky  clip,  or  in  some  way 
had  his  ire  aroused,  and  that  which  opened  in  sportful- 
ness  ended  in  violence,  each  one  taking  his  contestant  by 
the  hair,  and  then  with  the  sword  thrusting  him  in  the 
side;  so  that  that  which  opened  in  innocent  fun  ended  in 
the  massacre  of  all  the  twenty-four  sportsmen.  Was 
there  ever  a  better  illustration  of  what  was  true  then, 
and  is  true  now,  that  that  which  is  innocent  may  be  made 
destructive? 

In  my  explorations  of  the  night  side  of  city  life,  I 
have  found  out  that  there  is  a  legitimate  and  an  ille^iti- 
mate  use  of  the  club-house.  In  the  one  case  it  may  be- 
come a  heathful  recreation,  like  the  contest  of  the  twenty- 
four  men  in  the  text  when  they  began  their  play;  in  the 
other  case  it  becomes  the  massacre  of  body,  mind,  and 
soul,  as  in  the  case  of  these  contestants  of  the  text  when 
they  had  gone  too  far  with  their  sport.  All  intelligent 
ages  have  had  their  gatherings  for  political,  social,  ar- 
tistic, literary  purposes — gatherings  characterized  by  the 
blunt  old  Anglo-Saxon  designation  of  "club."    If  you 


CLUB-HOUSES.  129 

have  read  history,  you  know  that  there  was  a  King's 
Head  Club,  a  Ben  Jonson  Club;  a  Brothers'  Club,  to 
which  Swift  and  Bolingbroke  belonged;  a  Literary  Club, 
which  Burke  and  Goldsmith  and  Johnson  and  Boswell 
made  immortal ;  a  Jacobin  Club,  a  Benjamin  Franklin  . 
Junto  Club.  Some  of  these  to  indicate  justice,  some  to 
favor  the  arts,  some  to  promote  good  manners,  some  to 
despoil  the  habits,  some  to  destroy  the  soul.  If  one  will 
write  an  honest  history  of  the  clubs  of  England,  Ireland, 
Scotland,  France,  and  the  United  States  for  the  last  one 
hundred  years,  he  will  write  the  history  of  the  world. 
The  club  was  an  institution  born  on  English  soil,  but  it 
has  thrived  well  in  American  atmosphere.  We  have  in 
this  cluster  of  cities  a  great  number  of  them,  with  sev- 
enty thousand  members,  so  called,  so  known;  but  who 
shall  tell  how  many  belong  to  that  kind  of  club  where  , 
men  put  purses  together  and  open  house,  apportioning 
the  expense  of  caterer  and  servants  and  room,  and  hav- 
ing a  sort  of  domestic  establishment — a  style  of  club- 
house which  in  my  opinion  is  far  better  than  the  ordi- 
nary hotel  or  boarding-house?  But  my  object  now  is  to 
speak  of  club-houses  of  a  different  sort,  such  as  the  Union 
League,  which  was  established  during  the  war,  having 
patriotic  purposes,  which  has  now  between  thirteen  and 
fourteen  hundred  members,  which  is  now  also  the  head- 
quarters of  Republicanism;  likewise  the  Manhattan, 
with  large  admission  fee,  four  or  five  hundred  members, 
the  headquarters  of  the  Democracy;  like  the  Union  Club, 
established  in  1836,  when  Xew  York  had  only  a  little 
over  three  hundred  thousand  inhabitants,  their  present 
building  having  cost  $250,000 — they  have  a  membership 
of  between  eight  and  nine  hundred  people,  among  them 
some  of  the  lending  merchant  princes  of  the  land;  like 
the  Lotos,  where  journalists,  dramatists,  sculptors,  paint- 


130  CLUB-HOUSES. 

ers  and  artists,  from  all  branches,  gather  together  to  ai»- 
cass  newspapers,  theatres,  and  elaborate  art;  like  the 
Americas,  which  camps  out  in  summer  time,  dimpling 
the  pool  with  its  hook  and  arousing  the  forest  with  its 
stag  hunt;  like  the  Century  Club,  which  has  its  large 
group  of  venerable  lawyers  and  poets;  like  the  Army 
and  Navy  Club,  where  those  who  engaged  in  warlike  ser- 
vice once  on  the  land  or  the  sea  now  come  together  to 
talk  over  the  days  of  carnage;  like  the  New  York  Yacht 
Club,  with  its  floating  palaces  of  beauty  upholstered  with 
velvet  and  paneled  with  ebony,  having  all  the  advantages 
of  electric  bell,  and  of  gaslight,  and  of  king's  pantry, 
one  pleasure-boat  costing  three  thousand,  another  fifteen 
thousand,  another  thirty  thousand,  another  sixty-five 
thousand  dollars,  the  fleet  of  pleasure-boats  belonging  to 
the  club  having  cost  over  two  million  dollars;  like  the 
American  Jockey  Club,  to  which  belong  men  who  have 
a  passionate  fondness  for  horses,  fine  horses,  as  had  Job 
when,  in  the  Scriptures,  he  gives  us  a  sketch  of  thot 
king  of  beasts,  the  arch  of  its  neck,  the  nervousness  of 
its  foot,  the  majesty  of  its  gait,  the  whirlwind  of  its 
power,  crying  out:  "Hast  thou  clothed  his  neck  with 
thunder?  The  glory  of  his  nostrils  is  terrible;  lie  paw- 
eth  in  the  valley  and  rejoiceth  in  his  strength,  he  saith 
among  the  trumpets  ha!  ha!  and  he  smelleth  the  battle 
afar  off,  the  thunder  of  the  captains,  and  the  shouting;" 
like  the  Travelers'  Club,  the  Blossom  Club,  the  Palette 
Club,  the  Commercial  Club,  the  Liberal  Club,  the  Stable 
Gang  Club,  the  Amateur  Boat  Club,  the  gambling  clubs, 
the  wine  clubs,  the  clubs  of  all  sizes,  the  clubs  of  all 
morals,  clubs  as  good  as  good  can  be,  and  clubs  as  bad  as 
bad  can  be,  clubs  innumerable.  No  series  of  sermons 
on  the  night  side  of  city  life  would  be  complete  without  a 
sketch  of  the  clubs,  which,  after  dark,  are  in  full  blast. 


\ 

CLUB-HOUSES.  131 

During  the  day  they  are  comparatively  lazy  places. 
Here  and  there  an  aged  man  reading  a  newspaper,  or  an 
employee  dusting  a  sofa,  or  a  clerk  writing  up  the  ac- 
counts; but  when  the  curtain  of  the  night  falls  on  the 
natural  day,  then  the  curtain  of  the  club-house  hoists 
for  the  entertainment.  Let  us  hasten  up,  now,  the  mar- 
ble stairs.  "What  an  imperial  hallway!  See!  here  are 
parlors  on  this  side,  with  the  upholstery  of  the  Kremlin 
and  the  Tuilleries;  and  here  are  dining-halls  that  chal- 
lange  you  to  mention  any  luxury  that  they  cannot  afford; 
and  here  are  galleries  with  sculpture,  and  paintings,  and 
lithographs,  and  drawings  from  the  best  of  artists,  Crop- 
sey,  and  Bierstadt,  and  Church,  and  Hart,  and  Gifford — 
pictures  for  every  mood,  whether  you  are  impassioned  or 
placid;  shipwreck,  or  sunlight  over  the  sea;  Sheridan's 
Ride,  or  the  noonday  party  of  the  farmers  under  the 
tree;  foaming  deer  pursued  by  the  hounds  in  the  Adiron- 
dacks,  or  the  sheep  on  the  lawn.  On  this  side  there  are 
reading-rooms  where  you  find  all  newspapers  and  maga- 
zines. On  that  side  there  is  a  library,  where  you  find  all 
books,  from  hermeneutics  to  the  fairy  tale.  Coming  in 
and  out  there  are  gentlemen,  some  of  whom  stay  ten 
minutes,  others  stay  many  hours.  Some  of  these  are 
from  luxuriant  homes,  and  they  have  excused  themselves 
for  a  while  from  the  domestic  circle  that  they  may  enjoy 
the  larger  sociability  of  the  club-house.  These  are  from 
dismembered  households,  and  they  have  a  plain  lodging 
somewhere,  but  they  come  to  this  club-room  to  have  their 
chief  enjoyment.  One  blackball  amid  ten  votes  will  de- 
feat a  man's  becoming  a  member.  For  rowdyism,  for 
drunkenness,  for  gambling,  for  any  kind  of  misdemeanor, 
a  member  is  dropped  out.  Brilliant  club-house  from  top 
to  bottom.    The  chandeliers,  the  plate,  the  furniture,  the 


132 


CLUB-HOUSES. 


companionship,  the  literature,  the  social  prestige,  a  com- 
plete enchantment. 

But  the  evening  is  passing  on,  and  so  we  hasten 
through  the  hall  and  down  the  steps,  and  into  the  street, 
aud  from  block  to  block  until  we  come  to  another  style 
of  club-house.  Opening  the  door,  we  find  the  fumes 
of  strong  drink  and  tobacco  something  almost  intolera- 
ble. These  young  men  at  this  table,  it  is  easy  to  under- 
stand what  they  are  at,  from  the  flushed  cheek,  the  intent 
look,  the  almost  angry  way  of  tossing  the  dice,  or  of 
moving  the  "chips."  They  are  gambling.  At  another 
table  are  men  who  are  telling  vile  stories.  They  are 
three-fourths  intoxicated,  and  between  12  and  1  o'clock 
they  will  go  staggering,  hooting,  swearing,  shouting  on 
their  way  home.  That  is  an  only  son.  On  him  all  kind- 
ness, all  care,  all  culture  has  been  bestowed.  He  is  pay- 
ing his  parents  in  this  way  for  their  kindness.  That  is 
a  young  married  man,  who,  only  a  few  months  ago,  at  the 
altar,  made  promises  of  kindness  and  fidelity,  every  one 
of  which  he  has  broken.  "Walk  through  and  see  for  your- 
self. Here  are  all  the  implements  of  dissipation  and  of 
quick  death.  As  the  hours  of  the  night  go  away,  the  con- 
versation becomes  imbecile  and  more  debasing.  Now  it 
is  time  to  shut  up.  Those  who  are  able  to  stand  will  get 
out  on  the  pavement  and  balance  themselves  against  the 
lamp-post,  or  against  the  railings  of  the  fence.  The 
young  man  who  is  not  able  to  stand  will  have  a  bed  im- 
provised for  him  in  the  club-house,  or  two  not  quite  so 
overcome  with  liquor  will  conduct  him  to  his  father's 
house,  and  they  will  ring  the  door-bell,  and  the  door  will 
open,  aud  the  two  imbecile  escorts  will  introduce  into 
the  hallway  the  ghastliest  and  most  hellish  spectacle  that 
ever  enters  a  front  door — a  drunken  son.  If  the  dissi- 
pating club-houses  of  this  country  would  make  a  contract 


CLUB-HOUSES. 


133 


with  the  Inferno  to  provide  it  ten  thousand  men  a  year 
and  for  twenty  years,  on  the  condition  that  no  more 
should  be  asked  of  them,  the  club-houses  could  afford  to 
make  that  contract,  for  they  would  save  homesteads,  save 
fortunes,  save  bodies,  minds,  and  souls.  The  ten  thou- 
sand men  who  would  be  sacrificed  by  that  contract  would 
be  but  a  small  part  of  the  multitude  sacrificed  without 
the  contract.  But  I  make  a  vast  difference  between 
clubs.  I  have  belonged  to  four  clubs:  A  theological 
club,  a  ball  club,  and  two  literary  clubs.  I  got  from 
them  physical  rejuvenation  and  moral  health.  What 
shall  be  the  principle?  If  God  will  help  me,  I  will  lay 
down  three  principles  by  which  you  may  judge  whether 
the  club  where  you  are  a  member,  or  the  club  to  which 
you  have  been  invited,  is  a  legitimate  or  an  illegitimate 
cl  ub-house. 

First  of  all  I  want  you  to  test  the  club  by  its  influences 
on  home,  if  you  have  a  home.  I  have  been  told  by  a 
prominent  gentleman  in  club  life  that  three-fourths  of 
the  members  of  the  great  clubs  of  these  cities  are  mar- 
ried men.  That  wife  soon  loses  her  influence  over  her 
husband  who  nervously  and  foolishly  looks  upon  all  even- 
ing absence  as  an  assault  on  domesticity.  How  are  the 
great  enterprises  of  art  and  literature  and  beneficence 
and  public  weal  to  be  carried  on  if  every  man  is  to  have 
his  world  bounded  on  one  side  by  his  front  door-step,  and 
on  the  other  side  by  his  back  window,  knowing  nothing 
higher  than  his  own  attic,  or  nothing  lower  than  his  own 
cellar?  That  wife  who  becomes  jealous  of  her  husband's 
attention  to  art,  or  literature,  or  religion,  or  charity,  is 
breaking  her  own  sceptre  of  conjugal  power.  I  know  in 
this  church  an  instance  where  a  wife  thought  that  her 
husband  was  giving  too  many  nights  to  Christian  ser- 
vice, to  charitable  service,  to  prayer- meetings,  and  to- 


134 


CLUB-HOUSES. 


religious  convocation.  She  sytematically  decoyed  hira 
away  until  now  he  attends  neither  this  nor  any  other 
church,  and  is  on  a  rapid  way  to  destruction,  his  morals 
gone,  his  money  gone,  and,  I  fear,  his  soul  gone.  Let 
any  Christian  wife  rejoice  when  her  husband  consecrates 
evenings  to  the  service  of  God,  or  to  charity,  or  to  art,  or 
to  anything  elevated;  but  let  not  men  sacrifice  home  life 
to  club  life.  I  have  the  rolls  of  the  members  of  a  great 
many  of  the  prominent  clubs  of  these  cities,  and  I  can 
point  out  to  you  a  great  many  names  of  men  who  are  guilty 
of  this  sacrilege.  They  are  as  genial  as  angels  at  the  club- 
house, and  as  ugly  as  sin  at  home.  They  are  generous 
on  all  subjects  of  wine  suppers,  yachts,  and  fast  horses, 
but  they  are  stingy  about  the  wife's  dress  and  the  chil- 
dren's shoes.  That  man  has  made  that  which  might  be 
a  healthful  recreation  an  usurper  of  his  affections,  and 
he  has  married  it,  and  he  is  guilty  of  moral  bigamy. 
Under  this  process  the  wife,  whatever  her  features,  be- 
comes uninteresting  and  homely.  He  becomes  critical 
of  her,  does  not  like  the  dress,  does  not  like  the  way  she 
arranges  her  hair,  is  amazed  that  he  ever  was  so  unro- 
m antic  as  to  offer  her  hand  and  heart.  She  is  always 
wanting  money,  money,  when  she  ought  to  be  discussing 
Eclipses,  and  Dexter,  and  Derby  Day,  and  English  drags 
with  six  horses,  all  answering  the  pull  of  one  "ribbon." 

I  tell  you,  there  are  thousands  of  houses  in  Brooklyn 
and  New  York  being  clubbed  to  death!  There  are  club- 
houses in  these  cities  where  membership  always  involves 
domestic  shipwreck.  Tell  me  that  a  man  has  joined  a 
certain  club,  tell  me  nothing  more  about  him  for  ten 
years,  and  I  will  write  his  history  if  he  be  still  alive. 
The  man  is  a  wine-guzzler,  his  wife  broken-hearted  or 
prematurely  old,  his  fortune  gone  or  reduced,  and  his 
home  a  mere  name  in  a  directory.    Here  are  six  secular 


CLUB-HOUSES. 


135 


nights  in  the  week.  "  What  shall  I  do  with  them?"  says 
the  father  and  the  husband.  "  I  will  give  four  of  those 
nights  to  the  improvement  and  entertainment  of  my  fam- 
ily, either  at  home  or  in  good  neighborhood;  I  will 
devote  one  to  charitable  institutions;  I  will  devote  one 
to  the  club."  I  congratulate  you.  Here  is  a  man  who 
says,  "I  will  make  a  different  division  of  the  six  nights. 
I  will  take  three  for  the  club  and  three  for  other  pur- 
poses." I  tremble.  Here  is  a  man  who  says,  "  Out  of 
the  six  secular  nights  of  the  week,  I  will  devote  five  to 
the  club-house  and  one  to  the  home,  which  night  I  will 
spend  in  scowling  like  a  March  squall,  wishing  I  was  out 
spending  it  as  I  had  spent  the  other  five."  That  man's 
obituary  is  written.  JSTot  one  out  of  ten  thousand  that 
ever  gets  so  far  on  the  wrong  road  ever  stops.  Gradu- 
ally his  health  will  fail,  through  late  hours  and  through 
too  much  stimulus.  He  will  be  first-rate  prey  for  erysip- 
elas and  rheumatism  of  the  heart.  The  doctor  coming 
in  will  at  a  glance  see  it  is  not  only  present  disease  he 
must  fight,  but  years  of  fast  living.  The  cler£jvman,  for 
the  sake  of  the  feelings  of  the  family,  on  the  funeral  day 
will  only  talk  in  religious  generalities.  The  men  who 
got  his  yacht  in  the  eternal  rapids  will  not  be  at  the 
obsequies.  They  will  have  pressing  engagements  that 
day.  They  will  send  flowers  to  the  coffin-lid,  and  send 
their  wives  to  utter  words  of  sympathy,  but  they  will 
have  engagements  elsewhere.  They  never  come.  Bring 
me  mallet  and  chisel,  and  I  will  cut  on  the  tombstone 
that  man's  epitaph,  "  Blessed  are  the  dead  who  die  in  the 
Lord."  "  No,"  you  say,  "  that  would  not  be  appropriate." 
"  Let  me  die  the  death  of  the  righteous,  and  let  my  last 
end  be  like  his."  "  No,"  you  say,  "  that  would  not  be 
appropriate."  Then  give  me  the  mallet  and  the  chisel, 
and  I  will  cut  an  honest  epitaph:  -'Here  lies  the  victim 


♦ 


136 


CLUB-HOUSES. 


of  a  dissipating  club-house!"  I  think  that  damage  is 
often  done  by  the  scions  of  some  aristocratic  family,  who 
belong  to  one  of  these  dissipating  club-houses.  People 
coming  up  from  humbler  classes  feel  it  an  honor  to  be- 
long to  the  same  club,  forgetting  the  fact  that  many  of 
the  sons  and  grandsons  of  the  large  commercial  estab- 
lishments of  the  last  generation  are  now,  as  to  mind, 
imbecile;  as  to  body,  diseased;  as  tn  morals,  rotten. 
They  would  have  got  through  their  property  long  ago  if 
they  had  had  full  possession  of  it;  but  the  wily  ancestors, 
who  got  the  money  by  hard  knocks,  foresaw  how  it  was  to 
be,  and  they  tied  up  everything  in  the  will.  Now,  there 
is  nothing  of  that  unworthy  descendant  but  his  grand- 
father's name  and  roast  beef  rotundity.  And  yet  how 
many  steamers  there  are  which  feel  honored  to  lash  fast 
that  worm-eaten  tug,  though  it  drags  them  straight  into 
the  breakers. 

Another  test  by  which  you  can  find  whether  your  club 
is  legitimate  or  illegitimate — the  effect  it  has  on  your 
secular  occupation.  I  can  understand  how  through  such 
an  institution  a  man  can  reach  commercial  successes. 
I  know  some  men  have  formed  their  best  business  rela- 
tions through  such  a  channel.  If  the  club  has  advan- 
taged you  in  an  honorable  calling  it  is  a  legitimate  club. 
But  has  your  credit  failed?  Are  bargain-makers  more 
cautious  how  they  trust  you  with  a  bill  of  goods?  Have 
the  men  whose  names  were  down  in  the  commercial 
agency  A 1  before  they  entered  the  club,  been  going  down 
since  in  commercial  standing?  Then  look  out!  You 
and  I  every  day  know  of  commercial  establishments  going 
to  ruin  through  the  social  excesses  of  one  or  two  mem- 
bers. Their  fortunes  beaten  to  death  with  ball-players' 
bat,  or  cut  amidships  by  the  front  prow  of  the  regatta, 
or  going  down  under  the  swift  hoofs  of  the  fast  horses, 


CLUB-HOUSES. 


13T 


or  drowned  in  large  potations  of  Cognac  and  Mononga- 
hela.  Their  club-house  was  the  "  Loch  Earn."  Their 
business  house  was  the  rt  Yille  du  Havre."  They  struck, 
and  the  "Yille  du  Havre"  went  under.  Or,  to  take 
illustration  from  last  Monday  night's  disaster:  Their 
club-house  was  the  "  Eilion,"  and  their  business  house 
was  the  "  Pommerania."  They  struck,  and  the  fo  Pom- 
merania"  went  under. 

A  third  test  by  which  you  may  know  whether  the  club 
to  which  you  belong,  or  the  club  to  whose  membership 
you  are  invited,  is  a  legitimate  club  or  an  illegitimate 
club,  is  this:  What  is  its  effect  on  your  sense  of  moral 
and  religious  obligation?  Xow,  if  I  should  take  the 
names  of  all  the  people  in  this  audience  this  morning, 
and  put  them  on  a  roll  and  then  I  should  lay  that  roll 
back  of  this  organ,  and  a  hundred  years  from  now 
some  one  should  take  that  roll  and  call  it  from  A  to  Z, 
there  would  not  one  of  you  answer.  I  say  that  any 
association  that  makes  me  forget  that  fact  is  a  bad 
association.  When  I  go  to  Chicago  I  am  sometimes 
perplexed  at  Buffalo,  as  I  suppose  many  travelers 
are,  as  to  whether  it  is  better  to  take  the  Lake  Shore 
route  or  the  Michigan  Central,  equally  expeditious  and 
equally  safe,  getting  at  the  destination  at  the  same  time; 
but  suppose  that  I  hear  that  on  one  route  the  track  is 
torn  up,  and  the  bridges  are  torn  down,  and  the  switches 
are  unlocked?  It  will  not  take  me  a  great  while  to  de- 
cide which  road  to  take.  Kow,  here  are  two  roads  into 
the  future,  the  Christian  and  the  unchristian,  the  safe 
and  the  unsafe.  Any  institution  or  any  association  that 
confuses  my  idea  in  regard  to  that  fact  is  a  bad  institu- 
tion and  a  bad  association.  I  had  prayers  before  I  joined 
the  club.  Did  I  have  them  after?  I  attended  the  house 
of  God  before  I  connected  myself  with  the  club.  Since 


138 


CLUB-HOLSES. 


that  union  with  the  club  do  I  absent  myself  from  reli- 
gious influences?  Which  would  jou  rather  have  in  your 
hand  when  you  come  to  die,  a  pack  of  cards  or  a  Bible? 
Which  would  you  rather  have  pressed  to  your  lips  in  the 
closing  moment,  the  cup  of  Belshazzarean  wassail  or  the 
chalice  of  Christian  communion  ?  Who  would  you  rather 
have  for  your  pall-bearers,  the  eiders  of  a  Christian 
church,  or  the  companions  whose  conversation  was  full 
of  slang  and  innuendo?  Who  would  you  rather  have  for 
your  eternal  companions,  those  men  who  spend  their 
evenings  betting,  gambling,  swearing,  carousing,  and 
telling  vile  stories,  or  your  little  child,  that  bright  girl 
whom  the  Lord  took?  Oh!  you  would  not  have  been 
away  so  much  nights,  would  you,  if  you  had  known  she 
was  going  away  so  soon  ?  Dear  me,  your  house  has  never 
been  the  same  place  since.  Your  wife  has  never  bright- 
ened up.  She  has  nut  got  over  it;  she  never  will  get 
over  it.  How  long  the  evenings  are,  with  no  one  to  put 
to  bed,  and  no  one  to  tell  the  beautiful  Bible  story! 
What  a  pity  it  is  that  you  cannot  spend  more  evenings 
at  home  in  trying  to  help  her  bear  that  sorrow!  You 
can  never  drown  that  grief  in  the  wine  cup.  You  can 
never  break  away  from  the  little  arms  that  used  to  be 
flung  around  your  neck  when  she  used  to  say,  "  Papa, 
do  stay  home  to-night — do  stay  home  to-night."  You 
will  never  be  able  to  wipe  from  your  lips  the  dying  kiss 
of  your  little  girl.  The  fascination  of  a  dissipating  club- 
house is  so  great  that  sometimes  a  man  has  turned  his 
back  on  his  home  when  his  child  was  dying  of  scarlet 
fever.  He  went  away.  Before  he  got  back  at  midnight 
the  eyes  had  been  closed,  the  undertaker  had  done  his 
work,  and  the  wife,  worn  out  with  three  weeks  watching, 
lay  unconscious  in  the  next  room.  Then  there  is  a  rat- 
tling of  the  night-key  in  the  door,  and  the  returned  father 


CLUB-HOUSES. 


139 


comes  up  stairs,  and  he  sees  the  cradle  gone,  and  the 
windows  up,  and  says,  M  What's  the  matter?"  In  the 
judgment  day  he  will  find  out  what  was  the  matter. 
Oh!  man  astray,  God  help  you!  I  am  going  to  make  a 
very  stout  rope.  You  know  that  sometimes  a  rope- 
maker  will  take  very  small  threads,  and  wind  them  to- 
gether until,  after  a  while,  they  become  ship-cable.  And 
I  am  going  to  take  some  very  small,  delicate  threads, 
and  wind  them  together  until  they  make  a  very  stout 
rope.  I  will  take  all  the  memories  of  the  marriage  day, 
a  thread  of  laughter,  a  thread  of  light,  a  thread  of  music, 
a  thread  of  banqueting,  a  thread  of  congratulation,  and 
I  twist  them  together,  and  I  have  one  strand.  Then  I 
take  a  thread  of  the  hour  of  the  first  advent  in  your  house, 
a  thread  of  the  darkness  that  preceded,  and  a  thread  of* 
the  light  that  followed,  and  a  thread  of  the  beautiful 
scarf  that  little  child  used  to  wear  when  she  bounded  out 
at  eventide  to  greet  you,  and  then  a  thread  of  the  beau- 
tiful dress  in  which  you  laid  her  away  for  the  resurrec- 
tion. And  then  I  twist  all  these  threads  together,  and 
I  have  another  strand.  Then  I  take  a  thread  of  the 
scarlet  robe  of  a  suffering  Christ,  and  a  thread  of  the 
white  raiment  of  your  loved  ones  before  the  throne,  and  a 
string  of  the  harp  cherubic,  and  a  string  of  the  harp 
seraphic,  and  I  twist  them  all  together,  and  I  have  a  third 
strand.  "  Oh!"  you  say,  "  either  strand  is  strong  enough 
to  hold  fast  a  world."  No.  I  will  take  these  strands, 
and  I  will  twist  them  together,  and  one  end  of  that 
rope  I  will  fasten,  not  to  the  communion  table  for  it  shall 
be  removed — not  to  a  pillar  of  the  organ,  for  that  will 
crumble  in  the  ages,  but  I  wind  it  'round  and  'round 
the  cross  of  a  sympathizing  Christ,  and  having  fastened 
one  end  of  the  rope  to  the  cross  I  throw  the  other  end 
to  you.  Lay  hold  of  it!  Pull  for  your  life!  Pull  for 
heaven ! 


140 


POISON  IN  THE  CALDRON. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

POISON  IN  THE  CALDRON. 
"  O  thou  man  of  God,  there  is  death  m  the  pot." — II.  Kings  iv:  10. 

Elisha  had  gone  down  to  lecture  to  the  theological 
students  in  the  seminary  at  Gilgal.  He  found  the  stu- 
dents very  hungry.  Students  are  apt  to  be.  In  order 
that  he  might  proceed  with  his  lectures  successfully,  he 
sends  out  some  servants  to  gather  food  for  these  hungry 
students.  The  servants  are  somewhat  reckless  in  their 
work,  and  while  they  gather  up  some  healthful  herbs, 
they  at  the  same  time  gather  coloquintida,  a  bitter,  pois- 
onous, deathful  weed,  and  they  bring  all  the  herbs  to 
the  house  and  put  them  in  a  caldron  and  stir  them  up, 
and  then  bring  the  food  to  the  table,  where  are  seated 
the  students  and  their  professor.  One  of  the  students 
takes  some  of  the  mixture  and  puts  it  to  his  lips,  and 
immediately  tastes  the  coloquintida,  and  he  cries  out  to 
the  professor:  uO  thou  man  of  God,  there  is  death  in  the 
pot."  What  consternation  it  threw  upon  the  group. 
What  a  fortunate  thing  it  was  he  found  out  in  time,  so 
as  to  save  the  lives  of  his  comrades. 

Well,  there  are  now  in  the  world  a  great  many  caldrons 
of  death.  The  coloquintida  of  mighty  temptations  tills 
them.  Some  taste  and  quit,  and  are  saved;  others  taste 
and  eat  on,  and  die.  Is  not  that  minister  of  Christ 
doing  the  right  thing  when  he  points  out  these  caldrons 
of  iniquity  and  cries  the  alarm,  saying:  "  Beware!  There 
is  death  in  the  pot"? 

In  a  palace  in  Florence  there  is  a  fresco  of  Giotto. 


POISON  IN  THE  CALDRON. 


141 


For  many  years  that  fresco  was  covered  up  with  two 
inches  thickness  of  whitewash,  and  it  has  only  been  in 
recent  times  that  the  hand  of  art  has  restored  that  fresco. 
"What  sacrilege,"  you  say,  "  to  destroy  the  work  of  such 
a  great  master."  But  there  is  no  sadness  in  that  com- 
pared with  the  fact  that  the  image  of  God  in  the  soul 
has  been  covered  up  and  almost  obliterated  so  that  no 
human  hand  can  restore  the  Divine  lineaments. 

Iniquity  is  a  coarse,  jagged  thing,  that  needs  to  be 
roughly  handled.  You  have  no  right  to  garland  it  with 
fine  phrase  or  lustrous  rhetoric.  You  cannot  catch  a 
buffalo  with  a  silken  lasso.  Men  have  no  objections  to 
having  their  sin  looked  at  in  a  pleasant  light.  They 
will  be  very  glad  to  sit  for  their  photographs  if  you  mak 
a  handsome  picture.  But  every  Christian  philanthropist* 
must  sometimes  go  forth  and  come  in  violent  collision 
with  transgression.  I  was  in  a  whaling  port,  and  I  saw 
a  vessel  that  had  been  on  a  whaling  cruise  come  into  the 
harbor,  and  it  had  patched  sail  and  spliced  rigging  and 
bespattered  deck,  showing  hard  times  and  rough  work. 
And  so  I  have  seen  Christian  philanthropists  come  back 
from  some  crusade  against  public  iniquities.  They  have 
been  compelled  to  acknowledge  that  it  has  not  been 
yachting  over  summer  lakes,  but  it  has  been  outriding  a 
tempest  and  harpooning  great  Behemoths. 

A  company  of  emigrants  settle  in  a  wild  region.  The 
very  first  day  a  beast  from  the  mountains  comes  down 
and  carries  off  one  of  the  children,  and  the  next  day 
another  beast  comes  and  carries  off  another  child. 
Forthwith  all  the  neighbors  band  together,  and  with 
torch  in  one  hand  and  gun  in  the  other  they  go  down 
into  the  caverns  where  those  wild  beasts  are  secreted, 
and  slay  them. 

Now,  my  Christian  friends,  this  morning  I  want  to  go 


U2 


POISON  IN  THE  CALDRON. 


back  of  all  public  iniquity  and  find  out  its  hiding-place. 
I  want  to  know  what  are  the  sources  of  its  power,  or,  to 
resume  the  figure  of  my  text,  I  want  to  know  what  are 
the  caldrons  from  which  these  iniquities  are  dipped  out. 

Unhappy  and  undisciplined  homes  are  the  source  of 
much  iniquity.  A  good  home  is  deathless  in  its  influ- 
ences. Parents  may  be  gone.  The  old  homestead  may 
be  sold  and  have  passed  out  of  the  possession  of  the 
family.  The  house  itself  may  be  torn  down.  The 
meadow  brook  that  ran  in  front  of  the  house  may  have 
changed  its  course  or  have  dried  up.  The  long  line  of 
old-fashioned  sunflowers  and  the  hedges  of  wild  rose  may 
have  been  graded,  and  in  place  thereof  are  now  the  beau- 
ties of  modern  gardening.  The  old  poplar  tree  may  have 
cast  down  its  crown  of  verdure  and  may  have  fallen. 
You  say  you  would  like  to  go  back  a  little  while  and  see 
that  home,  and  you  go,  and  oh,  how  changed  it  is!  Yet 
that  place  will  never  lose  its  charm  over  your  soul. 
That  first  earthly  home  will  thrill  through  your  ever- 
lasting career.  The  dew-drops  that  you  dashed  from  the 
chickweed  as  you  drove  the  cows  afield  thirty  years  ago; 
the  fire  flies  that  flashed  in  your  father's  home  on  sum- 
mer nights  when  the  evenings  were  too  short  for  a  can- 
dle; the  tinged  pebbles  that  you  gathered  in  your  apron 
on  the  margin  of  the  brook;  the  berries  that  you  strung 
into  a  necklace,  and  the  daisies  that  you  plucked  for 
your  hair, — all  have  gone  into  your  sentiments  and 
tastes,  and  you  will  never  get  over  them.  The  trundle 
bed  where  you  slept;  the  chair  where  you  sat;  the  blue- 
edged  dish  out  of  which  you  ate;  your  sister's  skipping- 
rope;  your  brother's  ball;  your  kite;  your  hoop;  your 
mother's  smile;  your  father's  frown, — they  are  all  part 
of  the  fibre  of  your  immortal  nature.  The  mother  of 
missionary  Schwartz  threw  light  on  the  dusky  brow  of 


POISON  IX  THE  CALDRON. 


143 


the  savages  to  whom  he  preached  long  after  she  was 
dead.  The  mother  of  Lord  Byron  pursued  him,  as  with 
a  fiend's  fury,  into  all  lands,  stretching  gloom  and  death 
into  "Childe  Harold"  and  "Don  Juan,"  and  hovering 
in  darkness  over  the  lonely  grave  of  Missolonghi. 

Kascally  and  vagabond  people  for  the  most  part  come 
forth  from  unhappy  homes.  Parents  harsh  aud  cruel  ou 
the  one  hand,  or  on  the  other  lenient  to  perfect  looseness, 
are  raising  up  a  generation  of  vipers.  A  home  in  which 
scolding  and  fault-finding  predominate  is  blood  relation 
to  the  gallows  and  penitentiary.  Petulance  is  a  reptile 
that  may  crawl  up  into  the  family  nest  and  crush  it. 
There  are  parents  who  disgust  their  children  even  with 
religion.  They  scold  their  little  ones  for  not  loving 
God.  They  go  about  even  their  religious  duties  in  an 
exasperating  way.  Their  house  is  full  of  the  war-whoop 
of  contention,  and  from  such  scenes  husbands  and  child- 
ren dash  out  into  places  of  dissipation  to  find  their  lost 
peace,  or  the  peace  they  never  had.  O,  is  there  some 
mother  here,  like  Hagar,  leading  her  Ishmael  into  the 
desert  to  be  smitten  of  the  thirst  and  parched  in  the 
sand?  In  the  solemn  birth-hour  a  voice  fell  straight 
from  the  skies  into  that  dwelling,  saying:  "  Take  this 
child  and  nurse  it  for  Me,  and  I  will  give  thee  thy 
wages."  When  angels  of  God  at  nightfall  hover  over  that 
dwelling,  do  they  hear  the  little  ones  lisp  the  name  of 
Jesus?  O,  traveller  for  eternity,  with  your  little  ones 
gathered  up  under  your  robes,  are  you  sure'  you  are  on 
the  right  road,  or  are  you  leading  them  on  a  dangerous 
and  winding  bridle  path,  off  which  their  inexperienced 
feet  may  slip,  and  up  which  comes  the  howling  of  the 
wolf  and  the  sound  of  loosening  ledge  and  tumbling 
avalanche?  Blessed  the  family  altar  where  the  children 
kneel.    Blessed  the  cradle  where  the  Christian  mother 


POISON  IN  THE  CALDRON. 


rocks  the  Christian  child.  Blessed  the  song  the  little 
one  sings  at  nightfall  when  sleep  is  closing  the  eyes  and 
roosening  the  hand  from  the  toy  on  the  pillow.  Blessed 
the  mother's  heart  whose  every  throb  is  a  prayer  to  God 
for  the  salvation  of  her  children.  The  world  grows  old, 
and  soon  the  stars  will  cease  to  illuminate  it,  and  the 
herbage  to  clothe  it,  and  the  mountains  to  guard  it,  and 
the  waters  to  refresh  it,  and  the  heavens  to  overspan  it, 
and  the  long  story  of  its  sin,  and  shame,  and  glory,  and 
triumph  will  turn  into  ashes;  but  parental  influences, 
starting  in  the  early  home,  will  roll  on  and  up  into  the 
great  eternity,  blooming  in  all  the  joy,  waving  in  all  the 
triumph,  exulting  in  all  the  song  of  heaven,  or  groaning 
in  all  the  pain,  and  shrinking  back  into  all  the  shame, 
and  frowning  in  all  the  darkness  of  the  great  prison 
house.  O,  father!  O,  mother!  in  which  direction  is 
your  influence  tending? 

I  verily  believe  that  three-fourths  of  the  wickedness 
of  the  great  city  runs  out  rank  and  putrid  from  undisci- 
plined homes.  Sometimes  I  know  there  is  an  exception. 
From  a  bright,  beautiful,  cheerful  Christian  home  a 
husband  or  a  son  will  go  off  to  die.  How  long  you  have 
had  that  boy  in  }rour  prayer.  He  does  not  know  the 
tears  you  have  shed.  He  knows  nothing  about  the 
sleepless  nights  you  have  passed  about  him.  He  started 
on  the  downward  road,  and  will  not  stop,  call  you  never 
so  tenderly.  O,  it  is  hard,  it  is  very  hard,  after  having 
expended  so  much  kindness  and  care  to  get  such  pay  of 
ingratitude.  There  is  many  a  young  man,  proud  of  his 
mother,  who  would  strike  into  the  dust  the  dastard  who 
would  dare  to  do  her  wrong,  whose  hand  this  morning, 
by  his  first  step  in  sin,  is  sharpening  a  dagger  to  plunge 
through  that  mother's  heart.  I  saw  it.  The  telegram 
summoned  him.    I  saw  him  come  in  scarred  and  bloated, 


POISON  IN  THE  CALDRON. 


145 


to  look  upon  the  lifeless  form  of  his  mother — those  grey 
locks  pushed  back  over  the  wrinkled  brow  he  had  whit- 
ened by  his  waywardness.  Those  eyes  had  rained 
floods  of  tears  over  his  iniquity.  That  still,  white  hand 
had  written  many  a  loving  letter  of  counsel  and  invita- 
tion. He  had  broken  that  old  heart.  When  he  came  in 
he  threw  himself  on  the  coffin  and  sobbed  outright  and 
cried:  "Mother!  mother!"  but  the  lips  that  kissed  him 
in  infancy  and  that  had  spoken  so  kindly  on  other  days 
when  he  came  home,  spake  not.  They  were  sealed  for- 
ever. Bather  than  such  a  memory  in  my  soul,  I  would 
have  rolled  on  me  now  the  Alps  and  the  Himalayas. 
"  The  eye  that  mocketh  its  father,  and  refuseth  to  obey 
its  mother,  the  ravens  of  the  valley  shall  pick  it  out,  and 
the  young  eagles  shall  eat  it." 

The  second  caldron  of  iniquity  to  which  I  point  you 
is  an  indolent  life.  There  are  young  men  coming  to  our 
city  with  industrious  habits,  and  yet  they  see  in  the  city 
a  great  many  men  who  seem  to  get  along  without  any 
work.  They  have  no  business,  and  yet  they  are  better 
dressed  than  industrious  men,  and  they  seem  to  have 
more  facilities  of  access  to  amusements.  They  have 
plenty  of  time  to  spare  to  hang  around  the  engine  house, 
or  the  Pierrepont  House,  or  the  Saint  Nicholas,  or  the 
other  beautiful  hotels;  or  lounge  around  the  City  Hall, 
their  hands  in  their  pockets,  a  tooth-pick  in  their  mouth, 
waiting  for  some  crumb  to  fall  from  the  office-holder's 
table;  or  gazing  at  the  criminals  as  they  come  up  in  the 
morning  from  the  station-houses,  jeering  at  them  as  they 
leap  from  the  city  van  to  the  Court  House  steps.  Ah,  I 
would  as  soon  think  of  standing  at  the  gate  of  Green- 
wood to  enjoy  a  funeral  as  to  stand  at  the  City  Hall  in 
the  morning,  when  the  city  van  drives  up,  to  look  at  the 
carcasses  of  men  and  women  slain  for  both  worlds.  The 
10 


U6 


POISON  IN  THE  CALDRON. 


industrious  people  see  these  idlers  standing  about,  and 
they  wonder  how  they  make  their  living.  I  wonder,  too. 
They  have  plenty  of  money  for  the  ride;  they  have 
plenty  of  money  to  bet  on  the  boat  race  or  the  horse  race; 
they  can  discuss  the  flavor  of  the  costliest  wines;  they 
they  have  the  best  seats  at  Booth's  Theater.  But  still 
you  ask  me:  "How  do  they  get  their  money?"  Well, 
my  friends,  there  are  four  ways  of  getting  money — -just 
four.  By  inheritance;  by  earning  it;  by  begging  it;  by 
stealing  it.  Now,  there  are  many  people  in  our  com- 
munity who  seem  to  have  plenty  of  money,  who  did  not 
inherit  it,  and  who  did  not  earn  it,  and  who  did  not  beg 
it.  You  must  take  the  responsibility  of  saying  how 
they  got  it.  There  are  men  who  get  tired  of  the  drudg- 
ery of  life,  and  see  these  prosperous  idlers;  and  they  con- 
sort with  them,  and  they  learn  the  same  tricks,  and  they 
go  to  the  same  ruin — at  death  their  departure  causing 
no  more  mourning  than  is  felt  for  the  fast  horse  that 
they  foundered  and  killed  by  a  too  hasty  watering  at 
'*  Tunison's."  O,  the  pressure  on  the  industrious  young 
men  is  tremendous  when  they  see  people  all  around 
them  full  of  seeming  success  but  doing  nothing.  The 
multitude  of  those  who  get  their  living  by  sleight  of 
hand  is  multiplying.  What  is  the  use  of  working  in  the 
store,  or  office,  or  shop,  or  on  the  scaffold,  or  by  the 
forge,  when  you  can  get  your  living  by  your  wits?  A 
merchant  in  New  York  was  passing  along  the  street  one 
evening,  and  he  saw  one  of  his  clerks,  half  disguised, 
going  into  one  of  the  low  theaters.  He  said  within  him- 
self: "  I  must  look  out  for  that  young  man."  One  morn- 
ing the  merchant  came  to  his  store,  and  this  clerk  of 
whom  I  have  been  speaking  came  up,  in  assumed  con- 
sternation, and  said:  "The  store  has  been  on  fire.  I  have 
got  it  put  out;  but  many  of  the  goods  are  gone."  The 


POISON  IN  THE  CALDRON. 


147 


merchant  instantly  seized  the  young  man  by  the  collar, 
and  said:  "I  have  had  enough  of  this.  You  can't  de- 
ceive me.  Where  are  the  goods  you  stole  Vy  And  the 
clerk  confessed  it  instantly.  The  young  man  had  gone 
into  the  plan  of  making  money  by  sleight  of  hand  and 
by  his  wits. 

You  will  get  out  of  this  world  just  so  much  as,  under 
God,  you  earn  by  your  own  hand  and  brain.  Horatius 
was  told  he  might  have  so  much  land  as  he  could  plough 
around  in  one  day  with  a  yoke  of  oxen,  and  I  have  no- 
ticed that  men  get  nothing  in  this  world,  that  is  worth 
possessing,  of  a  financial,  moral,  or  spiritual  nature,  save 
they  get  it  by  their  own  hard  work.  It  is  just  so  much 
as,  from  the  morning  to  the  evening  of  your  life,  you 
can  plough  around  by  your  own  continuous  and  hard- 
sweating  industries.  "Go  to  the  ant,  thou  sluggard, 
consider  her  ways,  and  be  wise." 

Another  caldron  of  iniquity  is  the  dram  shop.  Surely 
there  is  death  in  the  pot.  Anacharsis  said  that  the  vine 
had  three  grapes:  pleasure,  drunkenness,  misery.  Rich- 
ard III.  drowned  his  own  brother  Clarence  in  a  butt  of 
wine — these  two  incidents  quite  typical.  Every  saloon 
built  above  ground,  or  dug  underground  is  a  center  of 
evil.  It  may  be  licensed,  and  for  some  time  it  may  con- 
duct its  business  in  elegant  style;  but  after  awhile  the 
cover  will  fall  off,  and  you  will  see  the  iniquity  in  its 
right  coloring.  Plant  a  grog  shop  in  the  midst  of  the 
finest  block  of  houses  in  your  city,  and  the  property  will 
depreciate  five,  ten,  twenty,  thirty,  fifty  per  cent.  Men  en- 
gaged in  the  ruinous  traffic  sometimes  say:  u  You  don't 
appreciate  the  fact  that  the  largest  revenues  paid  to  the 
Government  are  by  our  business.'1  Then  I  remember 
what  Gladstone,  the  prime  minister  of  England,  said  to 
a  committee  of  men  engaged  in  that  traffic  when  they 


148 


POISON  IN  THE  CALDRON. 


came  to  him  10  deplore  that  they  were  not  treated  with 
more  consideration:  "Gentlemen,  don't  be  uneasy  about 
the  revenue.  Give  me  thirty  million  sober  people,  and 
I  will  pay  all  the  revenue,  and  have  a  large  surplus." 
But,  my  friends,  the  ruin  to  property  is  a  very  small 
part  of  the  evil.  It  takes  everything  that  is  sacred  in 
the  family,  everything  that  is  holy  in  religion,  everything 
that  is  infinite  in  the  soul,  and  tramples  it  into  the  mire. 

The  marriage  day  has  come.  The  happy  pair  at  the 
altar.  The  music  sounds.  The  gay  lights  flash.  The 
feet  bound  up  and  down  the  drawing-room.  Started  on 
a  bright  voyage  of  life.  Sails  all  up.  The  wind  is  abaft. 
You  prophesy  everything  beautiful.  But  the  scene 
changes.  A  dingy  garret.  No  fire.  On  a  broken  chair 
sits  a  sorrowing  woman.  Her  last  hope  gone.  Poor, 
disgraced,  trodden  underfoot — she  knows  the  despair  of 
being  a  drunkard's  wife.  The  gay  barque  that  danced 
off  on  the  marriage  morning  has  become  a  battered  hulk, 
dismasted  and  shipwrecked.  <40,"  she  says,  "he  was  as 
good  a  man  as  ever  lived.  He  was  so  kind,  he  was  so 
generous — no  one  better  did  God  ever  create  than  he; 
but  the  drink,  the  drink  did  it." 

A  young  man  starts  from  the  country  home  for  the 
city.  Through  the  agency  of  metropolitan  friends  he 
has  obtained  a  place  in  a  store  or  a  bank.  That  morning, 
in  the  farm  house,  the  lights  are  kindlebl  very  early,  and 
the  boy's  trunk  is  on  the  wagon.  "  I  put  a  Bible  in 
your  trunk,"  says  the  mother,  as  she  wipes  the  tears 
away  with  her  apron.  "My  dear,  I  want  you  to  read  it 
when  you  get  to  town."  "O,"  he  says,  "  mother,  don't 
you  be  worried  about  me.  I  know  what  I  am  about.  I 
am  old  enough  to  take  care  of  myself.  Don't  you  be 
worried  about  me."  The  father  says:  "Be  a  good  boy 
and  write  home  often.    Your  mother  will  want  to  hear 


POISON  IN  THE  CALDRON.  149 

from  you."  Crack!  goes  the  whip,  and  away  over  the 
hills  goes  the  wagon.  The  scene  changes.  Five  years 
after  and  there  is  a  hearse  coming  up  the  old  lane  in 
front  of  the  farm  house.  Killed  in  a  porter  house  fight, 
that  son  has  come  home  to  disgrace  the  sepulchre  of  his 
fathers.  When  the  old  people  lift  the  coffin  lid,  and  see 
the  changed  face,  and  see  the  gash  in  the  temples  where 
the  life  oozed  out,  they  will  wring  their  withered  hands 
and  look  up  to  heaven  and  cry:  "Cursed  be  rum!  Cursed 
be  rum!" 

Lorenzo  de  Medici  was  sick,  and  his  friends  thought 
that  if  they  could  dissolve  some  pearls  In  his  cup,  and 
then  get  him  to  swallow  them,  he  would  he  cured.  And 
so  these  valuable  pearls  were  dissolved  in  his  cup,  and  he 
drank  them.  What  an  expensive  draught!  But  do  you 
know  that  drunkenness  puts  into  its  cup  the  pearl  of 
physical  health,  the  pearl  of  domestic  happiness,  the 
pearl  of  earthly  usefulness,  the  pearl  of  Christian  hope, 
the  pearl  of  an  everlasting  heaven,  and  then  presses  it  to 
the  lips?  And  oh,  what  an  expensive  draught!  The 
dram  shop  is  the  gate  of  hell.  While  I  speak  there  are 
some  of  you  in  the  outer  circles  of  this  terrible  mael- 
strom, and  in  the  name  of  God  I  cry  the  alarm:  "Put 
back  now  or  never!''  You  say  you  are  kind,  and  genial^ 
and  generous.  I  do  not  doubt  it;  but  so  much  more  the 
peril.  Mean  men  never  drink,  unless  some  one  else 
treats  them.  But  the  men  who  are  in  the  front  rank  of 
this  destructive  habit  are  those  who  have  a  nne  educa- 
tion, large  hearts,  genial  natures  and  splendid  prospects. 
This  sin  chooses  the  fattest  lambs  for  sacrifice.  What 
garlands  of  victory  this  carbuncled  hand  of  drunkenness 
hath  snatched  from  the  brow  of  the  orator  and  poet. 
What  gleaming  lights  of  generosity  it  has  put  out  in 
midnight  darkness.    Come  with  me  and  look  over — 


150 


POISON  IN  THE  CALDRON. 


come  and  hang  over — look  down  into  it  while  I  lift  off 
the  cover,  and  you  may  see  the  loathsome,  boiling  seeth- 
ing, groaning,  agonizing,  blaspheming  hell  of  the  drunk- 
ard.   There  is  everlasting  death  in  the  pot. 

I  have  thought  it  might  be  appropriate  at  this  season 
of  the  year,  when  we  all  mingle  in  hilarities,  to  warn  our 
young  friends  not  to  put  the  cup  of  intoxication  to  their 
lips,  and  not  to  make  these  glorious  seasons  of  family 
reunion  and  neighborhood  congratulation  the  beginning 
of  a  long  road  of  dissipation  and  sorrow.  Young  man! 
by  the  grace  of  God,  be  master  of  your  appetites  and 
passions.  Frederick  the  Great,  before  he  became  "the 
Great,"  was  seated  with  his  roystering  companions,  and 
they  were  drinking,  and  hallooing,  and  almost  imbecile, 
when  word  came  to  him  that  his  father  was  dead,  and 
consequently  the  crown  was  to  pass  to  him.  He  rose  up 
from  among  the  boisterous  crew,  and  stepped  out  and 
cried:  "Stop  your  fooling;  I  am  emperorl"  Would  to 
God  that  this  day  you  might  bring  all  your  appetites 
and  all  your  passions  in  subjection.  "Better  is  he  that 
ruleth  his  spirit  than  he  that  taketh  a  city."  Be  emperor! 
Yea,  you  are  called  this  morning  to  be  kings  and  to  be 
priests  unto  God  for  ever.  In  the  solemn  hours  of  this 
closing  year,  and  about  to  enter  upon  another  year,  if  the 
Lord  shall  spare  your  lives  for  a  few  days  longer,  resolve 
that  you  will  serve  Him.  Soon  all  the  days  and  years 
of  your  life  will  have  passed  away,  and  then,  the  great 
eternity.  "Rejoice,  O,  young  man,  in  thy  youth;  let 
thy  heart  cheer  thee  in  the  days  of  thy  youth,  and  walk 
thou  in  the  sight  of  thine  own  eyes,  and  in  the  way  of 
thine  own  heart;  but  know  thou  that  for  all  these  things 
God  will  bring  thee  into  judgment." 


i 


A  CAHT-KOPE  INIQUITY. 


151 


CHAPTER  X. 

A  CART-ROPE  INIQUITY 

•'Woe  unto  them  that  sin  as  i  t  were  with  a  cart-rope." — Isaiah  v:  18. 

There  are  some  iniquities  that  only  nibble  at  the  heart. 
After  a  lifetime  of  their  work,  the  man  still  stands  up- 
right, respected  and  honored.  These  vermin  have  not 
strength  enough  to  gnaw  through  a  man's  character. 
But  there  are  other  transgressions  that  lift  themselves 
up  to  gigantic  proportions,  and  seize  hold  of  a  man  and 
bind  him  with  thongs  for  ever.  There  are  some  iniqui- 
ties that  have  such  great  emphasis  of  evil  that  he  who  com- 
mits them  may  be  said  to  sin  as  with  a  cart-rope.  I  suppose 
jou  know  how  they  make  a  great  rope.  The  stuff  out  of 
which  it  is  fashioned  is  nothing  but  tow  which  you  pull 
apart  without  any  exertion  of  your  fingers.  This  is  spun 
into  threads,  any  one  of  which  you  could  easily  snap, 
but  a  great  many  of  these  threads  are  interwound — then 
you  have  a  rope  strong  enough  to  bind  an  ox,  or  hold  a 
ship  in  a  tempest.  I  speak  to  you  of  the  sin  of  gambling. 
A  cart-rope  in  strength  is  that  sin,  and  yet  I  wish  more 
especially  to  draw  your  attention  to  the  small  threads  of 
influence  out  of  which  that  mighty  iniquity  is  twisted. 
This  crime  is  on  the  advance,  so  that  it  is  well  not  only 
that  fathers,  and  brothers,  and  sons,  be  interested  in  such 
a  discussion,  but  that  wives,  and  mothers,  and  sisters,  and 
daughters  look  out  lest  their  present  home  be  sacrificed, 
or  their  intended  home  be  blasted.  No  man,  no  woman, 
can  stand  aloof  from  such  a  subject  as  this  and  say:  "It 
has  no  practical  bearing  upon  my  life;"  for  there  may  be 


9 


152 


A  CART-ROPE  INIQUITY. 


in  a  short  time  in  your  history  an  experience  in  which 
you  will  find  that  the  discussion  involved  three  worlds — 
earth,  heaven,  hell.  There  are  in  this  cluster  of  cities 
about  eight  hundred  confessed  gambling  establishments. 
There  are  about  three  thousand  five  hundred  professional 
gamblers.  Out  of  the  eight  hundred  gambling  establish- 
ments, how  many  of  them  do  you  suppose  profess  to  be 
honest?  Ten.  These  ten  professing  to  be  honest  because 
they  are  merely  the  ante-chamber  to  the  seven  hundred 
and  ninety  that  are  acknowledged  fraudulent.  There  are 
first-class  gambling  establishments.  You  step  a  little 
way  out  of  Broadway.  You  go  up  the  marble  stairs. 
You  ring  the  bell.  The  liveried  servant  introduces  you. 
The  walls  are  lavendar  tinted.  The  mantles  are  of  Ver- 
mont marble.  The  pictures  are  "Jephtha's  Daughter," 
and  Dore's  "  Dante's  and  Yirgil's  Frozen  Region  of 
Hell,"  a  most  appropriate  selection,  this  last,  for  the  place. 
There  is  the  roulette  table,  the  finest,  costliest,  most  ex- 
quisite piece  of  furniture  in  the  United  States.  There 
is  the  banqueting-room  where,  free  of  charge  to  the 
guests,  you  may  find  the  plate,  and  viands,  and  winet, 
and  cigars,  sumptuous  beyond  parallel.  Then  you  come 
to  the  second-class  gambling-establishment.  To  it  you 
are  introduced  by  a  card  through  some  "roper  in." 
Having  entered,  you  must  either  gamble  or  fight.  Sand- 
ed cards,  dice  loaded  with  quicksilver,  poor  drinks  mixed 
wit1  ^oor  drinks,  will  soon  help  you  to  get  rid  of 

all  yo'ir  money  to  a  tune  in  short  metre  without  staccato 
passages.  You  wanted  to  see.  You  saw.  The  low  vil- 
lains of  that  place  watch  you  as  you  come  in.  Does  not 
the  panther,  squat  in  the  grass,  know  a  calf  when  he  sees 
it  ?  "Wrangle  not  for  your  rights  in  that  place,  or  your 
body  will  be  thrown  bloody  into  the  street,  or  dead  into 
the  East  River. 


A  CART-ROPE  INIQUITY. 


153 


You  go  along  a  little  further  and  find  the  policy  estab- 
lishment. In  that  place  you  bet  on  numbers.  Betting 
on  two  numbers  is  called  a  "  saddle;"  betting  on  three 
numbers  is  called  a  "gig;"  betting  on  four  numbers  is 
called  a  "horse;"  and  there  are  thousands  of  our  young 
men  leaping  into  that  "  saddle,"  and  mounting  that 
"gig,"  and  behind  that  "horse,"  riding  to  perdition. 
There  is  alwa}Ts  one  kind  of  sign  on  the  door — u  Ex- 
change; "  a  most  appropriate  title  for  the  door,  for  there, 
in  that  room,  a  man  exchanges  health,  peace,  and  heaven, 
for  loss  of  health,  loss  of  home,  loss  of  family,  loss  of  im- 
mortal soul.   Exchange  sure  enough  and  infinite  enough. 

Now  you  acknowledge  that  is  a  cart-rope  of  evil,  but 
you  want  to  know  what  are  the  small  threads  out  of  which 
it  is  made.  There  is,  in  many,  a  disposition  to  hazard. 
They  feel  a  delight  in  walking  near  a  piecipice  because 
of  the  sense  of  danger.  There  are  people  who  go  upon 
Jungfrau,  not  for  the  largeness  of  the  prospect,  but  for  the 
feeling  that  they  have  of  thinking;  "What  would  hap- 
pen if  I  should  fall  off? "  There  are  persons  who  have 
their  blood  filliped  and  accelerated  by  skating  very  near 
an  air  hole.  There  are  men  who  find  a  positive  delight 
in  driving  within  two  inches  of  the  edge  of  a  bridge.  It 
is  this  disposition  to  hazard  that  finds  development  in 
gaming  practices.  Here  are  five  hundred  dollars.  I  may 
stake  them.  If  I  stake  them  I  may  lose  them;  but  I 
may  win  five  thousand  dollars.  Whichever  way  it  turns, 
I  have  the  excitement.  Shuffle  the  cards.  Lost!  Heart 
thumps.  Head  dizzy.  At  it  again — -just  to  gratify  this 
desire  for  hazard. 

Then  there  are  others  who  go  into  thi3  sin  through 
sheer  desire  for  gain.  It  is  especially  so  with  profes- 
sional gamblers.  They  always  keep  cool.  They  never 
drink  enough  to  unbalance  their  judgment.  They  do  not 


\ 


154 


A  CART-llOPE  INIQUITY. 


see  the  dice  so  touch  as  they  see  the  dollar  beyond  the 
dice,  and  for  that  they  watch  as  the  spider  in  the  web, 
looking  as  if  dead  until  the  fly  passes.  Thousands  of 
young  men  in  the  hope  of  gain  go  into  these  practices. 
They  say:  "Well,  my  salary  is  not  enough  to  allow  this 
luxuriance.  I  don't  get  enough  from  my  store,  office,  or 
shop.  I  ought  to  have  finer  apartments.  I  ought  to  have 
better  wines.  I  ought  to  have  more  richly  flavored 
cigars.  I  ought  to  be  able  to  entertain  my  friends  more 
expensively.  I  wont  stand  this  any  longer.  I  can  with 
one  brilliant  stroke  make  a  fortune.  Now,  here  goes, 
principle  or  no  principle,  heaven  or  hell.  Who  cares?" 
When  a  young  man  makes  up  his  mind  to  live  beyond 
his  income,  Satan  ha3  bought  him  out  and  out,  and  it  is 
only  a  question  of  time  when  the  goods  are  to  be  deliv- 
ered. The  thing  is  done.  You  may  plant  in  the  way  all 
the  batteries  of  truth  and  righteousness,  that  man  is  bound 
to  go  on.  When  a  man  makes  one  thousand  dollars  a 
year  and  spends  one  thousand  two  hundred  dollars;  when 
a  young  man  makes  one  thousand  five  hundred  dollars 
and  spends  one  thousand  seven  hundred  dollars,  all  the 
harpies  of  darkness  cry  out:  "Ha!  ha  !  we  have  him," 
and  they  have.  How  to  get  the  extra  five  hundred  dol- 
lars or  the  extra  two  thousand  dollars  is  the  question. 
He  says:  "  Here  is  my  friend  who  started  out  the  other 
day  with  but  little  money,  and  in  one  night,  so  great  was 
his  luck,  he  rolled  up  hundreds  and  thousands  of  dollars. 
If  he  got  it,  why  not  I?  It  is  such  dull  work,  this  adding 
up  of  long  lines  of  figures  in  the  counting-house;  this 
pulling  down  of  a  hundred  yards  of  goods  and  selling  a 
remnant;  this  always  waiting  upon  somebody  else,  when 
I  could  put  one  hundred  dollars  on  the  ace,  and  pick  up 
a  thousand."    This  sin  works  very  insidiously. 

Other  sins  sound  the  drum,  and  flaunt  the  flag,  and 


A  CAKT-ROPE  INIQUITY. 


155 


gather  their  recruits  with  wild  huzza,  but  this  marches 
its  procession  of  pale  victims  in  dead  of  night,  in  sileuce, 
and  when  they  drop  into  the  grave  there  is  not  so  much 
sound  as  the  click  of  a  dice.  O,  how  many  have  gone 
down  under  it.  Look  at  those  men  who  were  once  highly 
prospered.  Now,  their  forehead  is  licked  by  a  tongue  of 
flame  that  will  never  go  out.  In  their  souls  are  plunged 
the  beaks  that  will  never  be  lifted.  Swing  open  the  door 
of  that  man's  heart  and  you  see  a  coil  of  adders  wrig- 
gling their  indescribable  horror  until  you  turn  away 
and  hide  your  face  and  ask  God  to  help  you  to  forget  it. 
The  most  of  this  evil  is  unadvertised.  The  community 
does  not  hear  of  it.  Men  defrauded  in  gamino:  establish- 
ments  are  not  fools  enough  to  tell  of  it.  Once  in  a  while, 
however,  there  is  an  exposure,  as  when  in  Boston  the 
police  swooped  upon  a  gaming  establishment  and  found 
in  it  the  representatives  of  all  classes  of  citizens,  from  the 
first  merchants  on  State  street  to  the  low  Ann  street 
gambler ;  as  when  Bullock,  the  cashier  of  the  Central 
Railroad  of  Georgia,  was  found  to  have  stolen  one  hun- 
dred and  three  thousand  dollars  for  the  purpose  of  carry- 
ing on  gaming  practices;  as  when  a  young  man  in  one 
of  the  savings'  banks  of  Brooklyn,  many  years  ago,  was 
found  to  have  stolen  forty  thousand  dollars  to  carry  on 
gaming  practices;  as  when  a  man  connected  with  a  Wall 
street  insurance  company  was  found  to  have  stolen  one 
hundred  and  eighty  thousand  dollars  to  carry  on  his  gam- 
ing practices.  But  that  is  exceptional.  Generally  the 
money  leaks  silently  from  the  merchant's  till  into  the 
gamester's  wallet.  I  believe  that  one  of  the  main  pipes 
leading  to  this  sewer  of  iniquity  is  the  excitement  of  busi- 
ness life.  It  is  not  a  significant  fact  that  the  majority  of 
the  day  gambling-houses  in  New  York  are  in  proximity 
to  Wall  street?    Men  go  into  the  excitement  of  stock 


156 


A  CART-ROPE  INIQUITY. 


gambling,  and  from  that  they  plunge  into  the  gam- 
bling-houses, as,  when  men  are  intoxicated,  they  go  into 
a  liquor  saloon  to  get  more  drink.  The  howling,  scream- 
ing, stamping,  Bedlamitish  crew  in  the  "  Gold  Room" 
dr«p  into  the  gaming-houses  to  keep  up  their  frenzy.  The 
agitation  that  is  witnessed  in  the  stock  market  when  the 
chair  announces  the  word  "  North-western,"  or  "  Fort 
Wayne,"  or  " Rock  Island,"  or  "New  York  Central," 
and  the  rat!  tat!  tat!  of  the  auctioneer's  hammer,  and  the 
excitement  of  making  "corners,"  and  getting  up  "pools," 
and  "  carrying  stock,"  and  a  "  break "  from  eighty  to 
seventy,  and  the  excitement  of  rushing  about  in  curb- 
stone brokerage,  and  the  sudden  cries  of  "Buyer  three!  " 
"Buyer  ten!"  "Take  'em!"  "How  many?"  and  the 
making  or  losing  of  ten  thousand  dollars  by  one  opera- 
tion, unfits  a  man  to  go  home,  and  so  he  goes  up  the 
flight  of  stairs,  amid  business  offices,  to  the  darkly-cur- 
tained, wooden -shuttered  room,  gaily  furnished  inside, 
and  takes  his  place  at  the  roulette  or  the  faro  table.  But 
I  cannot  tell  all  the  process  by  which  men  get  into  this 
evil.  One  man  came  to  our  city  of  New  York.  He  was 
a  Western  merchant.  He  went  into  a  gaming-house  on 
Park-place.  Before  morning  he  had  lost  all  his  money 
save  one  dollar,  and  he  moved  around  about  with  that 
dollar  in  his  hand,  and  after  awhile,  caught  still  more 
powerfully  under  the  infernal  infatuation,  he  came  up  and 
put  down  the  dollar  and  cried  out  until  they  heard  him 
through  the  saloon:  "One  thousand  miles  from  home, 
and  my  last  dollar  on  the  gaming  table." 

Says  some  young  man  here  this  morning:  "  That  cart- 
rope  has  never  been  wound  around  my  soul."  My 
brother,  have  not  some  threads  of  that  cart-rope  been 
twisted  until  after  awhile  they  may  become  strong  enough 
to  bind  you  for  ever? 


A  CART- ROPE  INIQUITY.  157 

I  arraign  before  God  the  gift  enterprises  of  our  cities,, 
which  have  a  tendency  to  make  this  a  nation  of  gam- 
blers. "Whatever  you  get,  young  man,  in  such  a  place 
as  that,  without  giving  a  proper  equivalent,  is  a  robbery 
of  your  own  soul,  and  a  robbery  of  the  community. 
Yet,  how  we  are  appalled  to  see  men  who  have  failed  in 
other  enterprises  go  into  gift  concerts,  where  the  chief 
attraction  is  not  music,  but  the  prizes  distributed  among 
the  audience;  or  to  sell  books  where  the  chief  attraction 
is  not  the  book,  but  the  package  that  goes  with  the  book. 
Tobacco  dealers  advertise  that  on  a  certain  day  they  will 
put  money  into  their  papers,  so  that  the  purchaser  of 
this  tobacco  in  Cincinnati  or  New  York  may  unexpect- 
edly come  upon  a  magnificent  gratuity.  Boys  hawking 
through  the  cars  packages  containing  nobody  knows 
what,  until  you  open  them  and  find  they  contain  noth- 
ing. Christian  men  with  pictures  on  their  wall  gotten 
in  a  lottery,  and  the  brain  of  community  taxed  to  find 
out  some  new  way  of  getting  things  without  paying  for 
them.  O,  young  men,  these  are  the  threads  that  make 
the  cart  rope,  and  when  a  young  man  consents  to  these 
practices,  he  is  being  bound  hand  and  foot  by  a  habit 
which  has  already  destroyed  :'  a  great  multitude  that  no 
man  can  number."  Sometimes  these  gift  enterprises 
are  carried  on  in  the  name  of  charity;  and  you  remem- 
ber at  the  close  of  the  late  war  how  many  gift  enter- 
prises were  on  foot,  the  proceeds  to  go  to  the  orphans 
and  the  widows  of  the  soldiers  and  sailors.  "What  did 
the  men  who  had  charge  of  those  gift  enterprises  care 
for  the  orphans  and  the  widows?  Why,  thev  would  have 
allowed  them  to  freeze  to  death  upon  their  steps.  I  have 
no  faith  in  a  charity  which,  for  the  sake  of  relieving 
present  suffering,  opens  a  gaping  jaw  that  has  swallowed 
down  so  much  of  the  virtue  and  good  principle  of  com- 


158 


A  CART-ROPE  INIQUITY. 


munity.  Young  man,  have  nothing  to  do  with  these 
things.  They  only  sharpen  your  appetite  for  games  of 
chance.    Do  one  of  two  things:  be  honest  or  die. 

I  have  accomplished  my  object  if  I  put  the  men  in  my 
audience  on  the  look  out.  It  is  a  great  deal  easier  to 
fall  than  it  is  to  get  up  again.  The  trouble  is  that  when 
men  begin  to  go  astray  from  the  path  of  duty,  they  are 
apt  to  say,  "  There's  no  use  of  my  trying  to  get  back. 
I've  sacrificed  my  respectability,  I  can't  return;"  and 
they  go  on  until  they  are  utterly  destroyed.  I  tell  you, 
my  friends,  that  God  this  moment,  by  His  Holy  Spirit, 
can  change  your  entire  nature,  so  that  you  .will  go  out 
of  this  Tabernacle  a  far  different  man  from  what  you 
were  when  you  came  in.  Your  great  want — what  is  it? 
More  salary?  Higher  social  position?  No;  no.  I  will 
tell  you  the  great  want  of  every  man  in  this  house,  if 
he  has  not  already  obtained  it.  It  is  the  grace  of  God. 
Are  there  any  here  who  have  fallen  victims  to  the  sin 
that  I  have  been  reprehending?  You  are  in  a  prison. 
You  rush  against  the  wall  of  this  prison,  and  try  to  get 
out,  and  you  fail;  and  you  turn  around  and  dash  against 
the  other  wall  until  there  is  blood  on  the  grates,  and 
blood  on  your  soul.  You  will  never  get  out  in  this  way. 
There  is  only  one  way  of  getting  out.  There  is  a  key 
that  can  unlock  that  prison-house.  It  is  the  key  of  the 
house  of  David.  It  is  the  key  that  Christ  wears  at  His 
girdle.  If  you  will  allow  Him  this  morning  to  put  that 
key  to  the  lock,  the  bolt  will  shoot  back,  and  the  door 
will  swing  open,  and  you  will  be  a  free  man  in  Christ 
Jesus.  O,  prodigal,  what  a  business  this  is  for  you, 
feeding  swine,  when  your  father  stands  in  the  front  door, 
straining  his  eyesight  to  catch  the  first  glimpse  of  your 
return ;  and  the  calf  iG  as  fat  as  it  will  be,  and  the  harps 
of  heaven  are  all  strung,  and  the  feet  free.    There  are 


A  CART- HOPE  INIQUITY.  159 

converted  gamblers  in  heaven.  The  light  of  eternity 
flashed  upon  the  green  baize  of  their  billiard-saloon.  In 
the  laver  of  God's  forgiveness  they  washed  off  all  their 
sin.  They  quit  trying  for  earthly  stakes.  They  tried 
for  heaven  and  won  it.  There  stretches  a  hand  from 
heaven  toward  the  head  of  the  worst  man  in  all  this 
audience.  It  is  a  hand,  not  clenched  as  if  to  smite,  but 
outspread  as  if  to  drop  a  benediction.  Other  seas  have 
a  shore  and  may  be  fathomed,  but  the  sea  of  God's  love 
— eternity,  has  no  plummet  to  strike  the  bottom,  and 
immensity  no  iron-bound  shore  to  confine  it.  Its  tides 
are  lifted  by  the  heart  of  infinite  compassion.  Its  waves 
are  the  hosannahs  of  the  redeemed.  The  argosies  that 
sail  on  it  drop  anchor  at  last  amid  the  thundering  salvo 
of  eternal  victory.  But  alas  for  that  man  who  sits  down 
to  the  final  game  of  life  and  puts  his  immortal  soul  on 
the  ace.  while  the  angels  of  God  keep  the  tally-board; 
and  after  the  kings  and  queens,  and  knaves,  and  spades, 
are  "shuffled"  and  "cut,"  and  the  game  is  ended,  hov- 
ering and  impending  worlds  discover  that  he  has  lost  it, 
the  faro-bank  of  eternal  darkness  clutching  down  into 
its  wallet  all  the  blood-stained  wager*. 


160 


THE  WOMAN  OF  PLEASURE. 


CHAPTER  XI. 

THE  WOMAN  OF  PLEASURE. 
She  that  liveth  in  pleasure  is  dead  while  she  liveth. — I.  Tim.  t:  6- 

It  is  a  strong  way  of  putting  the  truth,  that  a  woman 
who  seeks  in  worldly  advantage  her  chief  enjoyment, 
will  come  to  disappointment  and  death. 

My  friends,  you  all  want  to  be  happy.  Fou  have  had 
a  great  many  recipes  by  which  it  is  proposed  to  give  you 
satisfaction — solid  satisfaction.  At  times  you  feel  a 
thorough  unrest.  You  know  as  well  as  older  people 
what  it  is  to  be  depressed.  As  dark  shadows  sometimes 
fall  upon  the  geography  of  the  school-girl  as  on  the  page 
of  the  spectacled  philosopher.  I  have  seen  as  cloudy 
dajTs  in  May  as  in  November.  There  are  no  deeper  sighs 
breathed  by  the  grandmother  than  by  the  granddaughter. 
I  correct  the  popular  impression  that  people  are  happier 
in  childhood  and  youth  than  they  ever  will  be  again.  If 
we  live  aright,  the  older  we  are  the  happier.  The  happiest 
woman  that  I  ever  knew  was  a  Christian  octogenarian; 
her  hair  white  as  white  could  be;  the  sunlight  of  heaven 
late  in  the  afternoon  gilding  the  peaks  of  snow.  I  have 
to  say  to  a  great  many  of  the  young  people  of  this  church 
that  the  most  miserable  time  you  are  ever  to  have  is 
just  now.  As  you  advance  in  life,  as  you  come  out  into 
the  world  and  have  your  head  and  heart  all  full  of  good, 
honest,  practical,  Christian  work,  then  you  will  know 
what  it  is  to  begin  to  be  happy.  There  are  those  who 
would  have  us  believe  that  life  is  chasing  thistle-down 


THE  WOMAN  OF  PLEASURE. 


161 


and  grasping  bubbles.  ^Ve  have  not  found  it  so.  To 
many  of  us  it  has  been  discovering  diamonds  larger  than 
the  Kohinoor,  and  I  think  that  our  joy  will  continue  to 
increase  until  nothing  short  ot'  the  everlasting  jubile  t 
heaven  will  be  able  to  express  it. 

Horatio  Greenongh,  at  the  close  of  the  baldest  life  a 
man  ever  lives — the  life  of  an  American  artist — wrote: 
"I  don't  want  to  leave  this  world  until  I  give  some  sign 
that,  born  by  the  grace  of  God  in  this  land,  I  have  found 
life  to  be  a  very  cheerful  thing,  and  not  the  dark  and 
bitter  thing  with  which  my  early  prospects  were 
clouded." 

Albert  Barnes,  the  good  Christian,  known  the  world 
over,  stood  in  his  pulpit  in  Philadelphia,  at  seventy  or 
eighty  years  of  age,  and  said:  "This  world  is  so  very 
attractive  to  me.  I  am  very  sorry  I  shall  have  to  leave  it." 

I  know  that  Solomon  said  some  very  dolorous  things 
about  this  world,  and  three  times  declared:  "Vanity  of 
vanities,  all  is  vanity.,,  I  suppose  it  was  a  reference  to 
those  times  in  his  career  when  his  seven  hundred  wives 
almost  pestered  the  life  out  of  him!  But  I  would  rather 
turn  to  the  description  he  has  gi  ven  of  religion,  when  he 
says  in  another  place:  "Her  ways  are  ways  of  pleasant- 
ness, and  all  her  paths  are  peace."  It  is  reasonable 
to  expect  it  will  be  so.  The  longer  the  fruit  hangs  on 
the  tree,  the  riper  and  more  mello  w  it  ought  to  pw. 
You  plant  one  grain  of  corn,  and  it  will  send  Up  a  stalk 
with  two  ears,  each  having  nine  hundred  and  fifty  grains, 
so  that  one  grain  planted  will  produce  nineteen  hundred 
grains.  And  ought  not  the  implantation  of  a  grain  of 
Christian  principle  in  a  youthful  soul  develop  into  a  large 
crop  of  gladness  on  earth  and  to  a  harvest  of  eternal  Joy 
in  heaven?  Hear  me,  then,  this  morning,  while  I  dis- 
course upon  some  of  the  mistakes  which  young  people 
11 


162 


THE  WOMAN  OF  PLKASUKE. 


make  in  regard  to  happiness,  and  point  out  to  the  young 
women  of  this  church  what  I  consider  to  be  the  sources 
of  complete  satisfaction. 

And,  in  the  first  place,  I  advise  you  not  to  build  your 
happiness  upon  mere  social  position.  Persons  at  your 
age,  looking  off  upon  life,  are  apt  to  think  that  if,  by 
some  stroke  of  what  is  called  good-luck,  you  could  arrive 
in  an  elevated  and  affluent  position,  a  little  higher  than 
that  in  which  God  has  called  you  to  live,  you  would  be 
completely  happy.  Infinite  mistake!  The  palace  floor 
of  Ahasuerus  is  red  with  the  blood  of  Yashti's  broken 
heart.  There  have  been  no  more  scalding  tears  wept 
than  those  which  coursed  the  cheeks  of  Josephine.  If 
the  sobs  of  unhappy  womanhood  in  the  great  cities  could 
break  through  the  tapestried  wall,  that  sob  would  come 
along  your  streets  to-day  like  the  simoon  of  the  desert. 
Sometimes  I  have  heard  in  the  rustling  of  the  robes  on 
the  city  pavement  the  hiss  of  the  adders  that  followed  in 
the  wake.  You  have  come  out  from  your  home,  and  you 
have  looked  up  at  the  great  house,  and  covet  a  life  under 
those  arches,  when,  perhaps,  at  that  very  moment,  within 
that  house,  there  may  have  been  the  wringing  of  hands, 
the  start  of  horror,  and  the  very  agony  of  hell.  I  knew 
such  an  one.  Her  father's  house  was  plain,  most  of  the 
people  who  came  there  were  plain;  but,  by  a  change  in 
fortune  such  as  sometimes  comes,  a  hand  had  been 
offered  that  led  her  into  a  brilliant  sphere.  All  the 
neighbors  congratulated  her  upon  her  grand  prospects; 
but  what  an  exchange!  On  her  side  it  was  a  heart  full 
of  generous  impulse  and  affection.  On  his  side  it  was  a 
soul  dry  and  withered  as  the  stubble  of  the  field.  On 
her  side  it  was  a  father's  house,  where  God  was  honored 
and  the  Sabbath  light  flooded  the  rooms  with  the  very 
mirth  of  heaven.    On  his  side  it  was  a  gorgeous  resi- 


THE  WOMAN  OF  PLEASURE. 


163 


dence,  and  the  coming  of  mighty  men  to  be  entertained 
there;  but  within  it  were  revelry  and  godlessness. 
Hardly  had  the  orange  blossoms  of  the  marriage  feast 
lost  their  fragrance,  than  the  night  of  discontent  began 
to  cast  here  and  there  its  shadow.  The  ring  on  the  fin- 
ger was  only  one  link  of  an  iron  chain  that  was  to  bind 
her  eternally  captive.  Cruelties  and  unkindness  changed 
all  those  splendid  trappings  into  a  hollow  mockery.  The 
platters  of  solid  silver,  the  caskets  of  pure  gold,  the  head- 
dress of  gleaming  diamonds,  were  there;  but  no  God,  no 
peace,  no  kind  words,  no  Christian  sympathy.  The  festive 
music  that  broke  on  the  captive's  car  turned  out  to  be  a 
dirge,  and  the  wreath  in  the  plush  was  a  reptile  coil,  and 
the  upholstery  that  swayed  in  the  wind  was  the  wing  of 
a  destroying  angel,  and  the  bead-drops  on  the  pitcher 
were  the  sweat  of  everlasting  despair.  O,  how  many 
rivalries  and  unhappinesses  among  those  who  seek  in 
social  life  their  chief  happiness!  It  matters  not  how  fine 
you  have  things;  there  are  other  people  who  have  it 
finer.  Taking  out  your  watch  to  tell  the  hour  of  day, 
some  one  will  correct  your  time-piece  by  pulling  out  a 
watch  more  richly  chased  and  jeweled.  Ride  in  a  car- 
riage that  cost  you  eight  hundred  dollars,  and  before  you 
get  around  the  park  you  will  meet  witli  one  that  cost  two 
thousand  dollars.  Have  on  your  wall  a  picture  by  Cop- 
ley, and  before  night  you  will  hear  of  some  one  who  has 
a  picture  fresh  from  the  studio  of  Church  or  Bierstadt. 
All  that  this  world  can  do  for  you  in  ribbons,  in  silver, 
in  gold,  in  Axminster  plush,  in  Gobelin  tapestry,  in  wide 
halls,  in  lordly  acquaintanceship,  will  not  give  you  the 
ten-thousandth  part  of  a  grain  of  solid  satisfaction.  The 
English  lord,  moving  in  the  very  highest  sphere,  was 
one  day  found  seated,  with  his  chin  on  his  hand,  and  his 
elbow  on  the  window-sill,  looking  out,  and  saying:  "O, 


THE  WOMAN   OF  PLEASURE. 


I  wish  I  could  exchange  places  with  that  dog."  Mere 
social  position  will  never  give  happiness  to  a  woman's 
soul.    I  have  walked  through  the  halls  of  those  who  des- 

CD 

pise  the  common  people;  I  have  sat  at  their  banquets; 
I  have  had  their  friendship;  yea,  I  have  heard  from  their 
own  lips  the  story  of  their  disquietude;  and  I  tell  the 
young  women  of  this  church  that  they  who  build  on 
mere  social  position  their  soul's  immortal  happiness,  are 
building  on  the  sand. 

I  go  further,  and  advise  you  not  to  depend  for  enjoy- 
ment upon  mere  personal  attractions.  It  would  be 
sheer  hypocrisy,  because  we  may  not  have  it  ourselves, 
to  despise,  or  affect  to  despise,  beauty  in  others.  When 
God  gives  it,  He  gives  it  as  a  blessing  and  as  a  means  of 
usefulness.  David  and  his  army  were  coming  down  from 
the  mountains  to  destroy  Nabal  and  his  flocks  and  vine- 
yards. The  beautiful  Abigail,  the  wife  of  Nabal,  went 
out  to  arrest  him  when  he  came  down  from  the  moun- 
tains, and  she  succeeded.  Coming  to  the  foot  of  the  hill, 
she  knelt.  David  with  his  army  of  sworn  men  came 
down  over  the  cliffs,  and  when  he  saw  her  kneeling  at 
the  foot  of  the  hill,  he  cried:  "Halt!"  to  his  men,  and 
the  caves  echoed  it:  "Halt!  halt!"  That  one  beautiful 
woman  kneeling  at  the  foot  of  the  cliff  had  arrested  all 
those  armed  troops.  A  dew-drop  dashed  back  Niagara. 
The  Bible  sets  before  us  the  portraits  of  Sarah  and 
Rebecca,  and  Abishag,  Absalom's  sister,  and  Job's 
'daughters,  and  says:  "They  were  fair  to  look  upon." 
By  out-door  exercise,  and  by  skillful  arrangement  of  ap- 
parel, let  women  make  themselves  attractive.  The  sloven 
lias  only  one  mission,  and  that  to  excite  our  loathing  and 
disgust.  But  alas  I  for  those  who  depend  upon  personal 
charms  for  their  happiness.  Beauty  is  such  a  subtle 
thing,  it  does  not  seem  to  depend  upon  facial  propor- 


THE  WOMAN  OF  PLEASURE.  165 

tions,  or  upon  the  sparkle  of  the  eye,  or  upon  the  flush 
of  the  cheek.  You  sometimes  find  it  among  irregular 
features.  It  is  the  soul  shining  through  the  face  that 
makes  one  beautiful.  But  alas!  for  those  who  depend 
upon  mere  personal  charms.  They  will  come  to  disap- 
pointment and  to  a  great  fret.  There  are  so  many  dif- 
ferent opinions  about  what  are  personal  charms;  and  then 
sickness,  and  trouble,  and  age,  do  make  such  ravages. 
The  poorest  god  that  a  woman  ever  worships  is  her  own 
face.  The  saddest  sight  in  all  the  world  is  a  woman  who 
has  built  everything  on  good  looks,  when  the  charms 
begin  to  vanish.  O,  how  they  try  to  cover  the  wrinkles 
and  hide  the  ravages  of  time!  When  Time,  with  iron- 
shod  feet,  steps  on  a  face,  the  hoof-marks  remain,  and 
you  cannot  hide  them.  It  is  silly  to  try  to  hide  them. 
I  think  the  most  repulsive  fool  in  all  the  world  is  a*n  old 
fool! 

Why,  my  friends,  should  you  be  ashamed  to  be  get- 
ting old?  It  is  a  sign — it  is  prima  facie  evidence,  that 
you  have  behaved  tolerably  well  or  you  would  not  have 
lived  to  this  time.  The  grandest  thing,  I  think,  is  eter- 
nity, and  that  is  made  up  of  countless  years.  When  the 
Bible  would  set  forth  the  attractiveness  of  Jesus  Christ, 
it  says:  "His  hair  was  white  as  snow."  But  when  the 
color  goes  from  the  cheek,  and  the  lustre  from  the  eye, 
and  the  spring  from  the  step,  and  the  gracefulness  from 
the  gait,  alas!  for  those  who  have  built  their  time  and 
their  eternity  upon  good  looks.  But  all  the  passage  of 
years  cannot  take  out  of  one's  face  benignity,  and  kind- 
ness, and  compassion,  and  faith.  Culture  your  heart  and 
you  culture  your  face.  The  brightest  glory  that  ever 
beamed  from  a  woman's  face  is  the  religion  of  Jesus 
Christ.  In  the  last  war  two  hundred  wounded  soldiers 
came  to  Philadelphia  one  night,  and  came  unheralded, 


THE  WOMAN  OF  PLEASURE. 


and  they  had  to  extemporize  a  hospital  for  them,  and  the 
Christian  women  of  my  church,  and  of  other  churches, 
went  out  that  night  to  take  care  of  the  poor  wounded 
fellows.  That  night  I  saw  a  Christian  woman  go  through 
the  wards  of  the  hospital,  her  sleeves  rolled  up,  ready  for 
hard  work,  her  hair  dishevelled  in  the  excitement  of  the 
hour.  Her  face  was  plain,  very  plain;  but  after  the 
wounds  were  washed  and  the  new  bandages  were  put 
round  the  splintered  limbs,  and  the  exhausted  boy  fell 
off  into  his  first  pleasant  sleep,  she  put  her  hand  on  his 
brow,  and  lie  started  in  his  dream,  and  said:  *0,  I 
thought  an  angel  touched  me!"  There  may  have  been 
no  classic  elegance  in  the  features  of  Mrs.  Harris,  who 
came  into  the  hospital  after  the  "Seven  Days"  awful  fight 
before  Richmond,  as  she  sat  down  by  a  wounded  drum- 
mer-boy and  heard  him  soliloquize:  "A  ball  through 
my  body,  and  my  poor  mother  will  never  again  see  her 
boy.  What  a  pity  it  is!"  And  she  leaned  over  him  and 
said:  "Shall  I  be  your  mother,  and  comfort  you?"  And 
he  looked  up  and  said:  "Yes,  I'll  try  to  think  she's 
here.  Please  to  write  a  long  letter  to  her,  and  tell  her 
all  about  it,  and  send  her  a  lock  of  my  hair  and  comfort 
her.  But  I  would  like  to  have  you  tell  her  how  much  I 
suffered — yes,  I  would  like  you  to  do  that,  for  she  would 
feel  so  for  me.  Hold  my  hand  while  I  die."  There  may 
have  been  no  classic  elegance  in  her  features,  but  all  the 
hospitals  of  Harrison's  Landing  and  Fortress  Monroe 
would  have  agreed  that  she  was  beautiful;  and  if  any 
rough  man  in  all  that  ward  had  insulted  her,  some 
wounded  soldier  would  have  leaped  from  his  couch,  on 
his  best  foot,  and  struck  him  dead  with  a  crutch. 

Again:  I  advise  you  not  to  depend  for  happiness 
upon  the  flatteries  of  men.  It  is  a  poor  compliment  tc 
your  sex  that  so  many  men  feel  obliged  in  your  presence 


THE  WOMAN  OF  PLEASURE. 


167 


to  offer  unmeaning  compliments.  Men  capable  of  ele- 
gant and  elaborate  conversation  elsewhere  sometimes  feel 
called  upon  at  the  door  of  the  drawing-room  to  drop  their 
common  sense  and  to  dole  out  sickening  flatteries.  They 
say  things  about  your  dress,  and  about  your  appearance, 
that  you  know,  and  they  know,  are  false.  They  say  you 
are  an  angel.  You  know  you  are  not.  Determined  to 
tell  the  truth  in  office,  and  store,  and  shop,  they  consider 
it  honorable  to  lie  to  a  woman.  The  same  thing  that 
they  told  you  on  this  side  of  the  drawing-room,  three 
minutes  ago  they  said  to  some  on  the  other  side  of  the 
drawing-room.  O,  let  no  one  trample  on  your  self-res- 
pect. The  meanest  thing  on  which  a  woman  can  build 
her  happiness  is  the  flatteries  of  men. 

Again:  I  charge  you  not  to  depend  for  happiness 
upon  the  disoipleship  of  fashion.  Some  men  are  just  as 
proud  of  being  out  of  the  fashion  as  others  are  of  being 
in  it.  I  have  seen  men  as  vain  of  their  old  fashioned 
coat,  and  their  eccentric  hat,  as  your  brainless  fop  is  proud 
of  his  dangling  fooleries.  Fashion  sometimes  makes  a 
reasonable  demand  of  us,  and  then  we  ought  to  yield  to  it. 
The  daisies  of  the  field  have  their  fashion  of .  color  and 
leaf^the  honeysuckles  have  their  fashion  of  ear-drop; 
and  the  snowflakes  Hung  out  of  the  winter  heavens  have 
their  fashion  of  exquisiteness.  After  the  summer  shower 
the  sky  weds  the  earth  with  ring  of  rainbow.  And  I  do 
not  think  we  have  a  right  to  despise  all  the  elegancies  and 
fashions  of  this  world,  especially  if  they  make  reasonable 
demands  upon  us;  but  the  discipleship  and  worshipof  fash- 
ion is  death  to  the  body,  and  death  to  the  soul.  I  am  glad 
the  world  is  improving.  Look  at  the  fashion  plates  of  the 
seventeenth  and  eighteenth  centuries,  and  j-ou  will  find 
that  the  world  is  not  so  extravagant  and  extraordinary  now 
as  it  was  then,  and  all  the  marvellous  things  that  the 


168 


THE  WOMAN  OF  PLEASURE. 


granddaughter  will  do  will  never  equal  that  done  by  the 
grandmother.  Go  still  further  back  to  the  Bible  times, 
and  you  find  that  in  those  times  fashion  wielded  a  more 
terrible  scepter.  You  have  only  to  turn  to  the  third 
chapter  of  Isaiah. 

Only  think  of  a  woman  having  all  that  on!  I  am  glad 
that  the  world  is  getting  better,  and  that  fashion  which 
has  dominated  in  the  world  so  ruinously  in  other  days 
has  for  a  little  time,  for  a  little  degree  at  any  rate,  re- 
laxed its  energies.  Oh,  the  danger  of  the  disciplesliip  of 
fashion.  All  the  splendors  and  the  extravaganza  of  this 
world  dyed  into  your  robe  and  flung  over  your  shoulder 
cannot  wrap  peace  around  your  heart  for  a  single  moment. 
The  gayest  wardrobe  will  utter  no  voice  of  condolence  in 
the  day  of  trouble  and  darkness.  That  woman  is  grand- 
ly dressed,  and  only  she,  who  is  wrapped  in  the  robe  of  a 
Savior's  righteousness.  The  home  may  be  very  hum- 
ble, the  hat  may  be  very  plain,  the  frock  may  be  very 
coarse;  but  the  halo  of  heaven  settles  in  the  room  when 
she  wears  it,  and  the  faintest  touch  of  the  resurrection 
angel  will  change  that  garment  into  raiment  exceeding 
white,  so  as  no  fuller  on  earth  could  whiten  it.  I  come 
to  you,  young  woman,  to-day,  to  say  that  this  world  can- 
not make  you  happy.  I  know  it  is  a  bright  world,  with 
glorious  sunshine,  and  golden  rivers,  and  fire-worked 
sunset,  and  bird  orchestra,  and  the  darkest  cave  has  its 
crystals,  and  the  wrathiest  wave  its  foam-wreath,  and  the 
coldaet  midnight  its  flaming  aurora;  but  God  will  put 
out  all  these  lights  with  the  blast  of  his  own  nostrils,  and 
the  glories,  of  this  world  will  perish  in  the  final  confla- 
gration. You  will  never  be  happy  until  you  get  vour 
sins  forgiven  and  allow  Christ  Jesus  to  take  full  posses- 
sion of  your  soul.  He  will  be  your  friend  in  every  per- 
plexity.   He  will  be  your  comfort  in  every  trial.  He 


THE  WOMAN   OF  PLEASURE. 


169 


will  be  your  defender  in  every  strait.  I  do  not  ask  you 
to  bring,  like  Mary,  the  spices  to  the  scpulcher  of  a  dead 
Christ,  but  to  bring  your  all  to  the  feet  of  a  living  Jesus. 
His  word  is  peace.  His  look  is  love.  His  hand  is  help. 
His  touch  is  life.  His  smile  is  heaven.  Oh,  come,  then, 
in  flocks  and  groups!  Come,  like  the  south  wind  over 
banks  of  myrrh.  Come,  like  the  morning  light  tripping 
over  the  mountains.  Wreathe  all  your  affections  for 
Christ's  brow,  set  all  your  gems  in  Christ's  coronet,  pour 
all  your  voices  into  Christ's  song,  and  let  this  Sabbath 
air  rustle  with  the  wings  of  rejoicing  angels,  and  the 
towers  of  God  ring  out  the  news  of  souls  saved ! 

"This  world  its  fancied  pearl  may  crave, 

'Tis  not  the  pearl  tor  me; 
'Twill  dim  its  luster  in  the  grave 

'Twill  perish  in  the  sea. 
But  there's  a  pearl  of  price  untold, 
Which  never  can  be  bought  with  gold; 

Oh,  that's  the  pearl  for  me." 


170 


WAT-LKIKG  PLACES. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

THE  SINS  OF  SUMMER  WATERING  PLACES. 

A  pool,  which  is  called  in  the  Hebrew  tongue  Bethesda,  having 
five  porches.  In  these  lay  a  multitude  of  blind,  halt,  withered,  wait- 
ing for  the  moving  of  the  water. — John  v :  2, 3. 

Outside  of  the  city  of  Jerusalem,  there  was  a  sensi- 
tive watering-place,  the  popular  resort  for  invalids.  To 
this  day,  there  is  a  dry  basin  of  rock  which  shows  that 
there  must  have  been  a  pool  there  three  hundred  and 
sixty  feet  long,  one  hundred  and  thirty  feet  wide,  and 
seventy-five  feet  deep.  This  pool  was  surrounded  by  five 
piazzas,  or  porches,  or  bathing-houses,  where  the  patients 
tarried  until  the  time  when  they  were  to  step  into  the 
water.  So  far  as  reinvigoration  was  concerned,  it  must 
have  been  a  Saratoga  and  a  Long  Branch  on  a  small  scale; 
a  Leamington  and  a  Brighton  combined — medical  and 
therapeutic.  Tradition  says  that  at  a  certain  season  of 
the  year  there  wa3  an  officer  of  the  government  who 
would  go  down  to  that  water  and  pour  in  it  some  heal- 
ing quality,  and  after  that  the  people  would  come  and 
get  the  medication;  but  I  prefer  the  plain  statement  of 
Scripture,  that  at  a  certain  season,  an  angel  came  down 
and  stirred  up  or  troubled  the  water;  and  then  the  peo- 
ple came  and  got  the  healing.  That  angel  ot  God  that 
stirred  up  the  Judean  watering-place  had  his  counter- 
part in  the  angel  of  healing  that,  in  our  day,  steps  into 
the  mineral  waters  of  Congress,  or  Sharon,  or  Sulphur 
Springs,  or  into  the  salt  sea  at  Cape  May  and  Nahant, 
where  multitudes  who  are  worn  out  with  commercial  and 


WATERING  PLACES. 


m 


professional  anxieties,  as  well  as  those  who  are  afflicted 
with  rheumatic,  neuralgic,  and  splenetic  diseases,  go, 
and  are  cured  by  the  thousands.  These  Bethesdas  are 
scattered  all  up  and  down  our  country,  blessed  be  God! 

We  are  at  a  season  of  the  year  when  railway  trains  are 
being  laden  with  passengers  and  baggage  on  their  way  to 
the  mountains,  and  the  lakes,  and  the  sea-shore.  Mul- 
titudes of  our  citizens  are  packing  their  trunks  for  a 
restorative  absence.  The  city  heats  are  pursuing  the 
people  with  torch  and  fear  of  sunstroke.  The  long  silent 
halls  of  sumptuous  hotels  are  all  abuzz  with  excited  ar- 
rivals. The  crystalline  surface  of  Winnipiseogee  is  shat- 
tered with  the  stroke  of  steamers  laden  with  excursion- 
ists. The  antlers  of  Adirondack  deer  rattle  under  the 
shot  of  city  sportsmen.  The  trout  make  fatal  snap  at 
the  hook  of  adroit  sportsmen,  and  toss  their  spotted  bril- 
liance into  the  game  basket.  Soon  the  baton  of  the 
orchestral  leader  will  tap  the  music-stand  on  the  hotel 
green,  and  American  life  will  put  on  festal  array,  and  the 
rumbling  of  the  tenpin  alley,  and  the  crack  of  the  ivory 
balls  on  the  green-baized  billiard  tables,  and  the  jolting 
of  the  bar-room  goblets,  and  the  explosive  uncorking  of 
champagne  bottles,  and  the  whirl  and  the  rustle  of  the 
ball-room  dance,  and  the  clattering  hoofs  of  the  race- 
courses, will  attest  that  the  season  for  the  great  Ameri- 
can watering-places  is  fairly  inaugurated.  Music!  Flute, 
and  drum,  and  cornet-a-piston,  and  clapping  cymbals, 
will  wake  the  echoes  of  the  mountains.  Glad  I  am  that 
fagged-out  American  life,  for  the  most  part,  will  have  an 
opportunity  to  rest,  and  that  nerves  racked  and  destroyed 
will  find  a  Bethesda. 

I  believe  in  watering-places.  I  go  there  sometimes. 
Let  not  the  commercial  firm  begrudge  the  clerk,  or  the 
employer  the  journeyman,  or  the  patient  the  physician, 


172 


WATERING  PLACES. 


or  the  church  its  pastor,  a  season  of  inoccupation.  Lu- 
ther used  to  sport  with  his  children;  Edmund  Burke 
used  to  caress  his  favorite  horse;  Thomas  Chalmers,  in 
the  dark  hour  of  the  Church's  disruption,  played  kite 
for  recreation — so  I  was  told  by  his  own  daughter — and 
the  busy  Christ  said  to  the  busy  apostles:  "Come  ye 
apart  awhile  into  the  desert,  and  rest  yourselves."  And 
I  have  observed  that  they  who  do  not  know  how  to  rest, 
do  not  know  how  to  work. 

But  I  have  to  declare  this  truth  to-day,  that  some  of 
our  fashionable  watering-places  are  the  temporal  and 
eternal  destruction  of  "a  multitude  that  no  man  can  num- 
ber;" and  amid  the  congratulations  of  this  season,  and 
the  prospect  of  the  departure  of  many  of  you  for  the 
country,  I  must  utter  a  note  of  warning,  plain,  earnest, 
and  unmistakable.  The  first  temptation  that  is  apt  to 
hover  in  this  direction,  is  to  leave  your  piety  all  at  home. 
You  will  send  the  dog,  and  cat,  and  canary-bird  to  be 
well  cared  for  somewhere  else;  but  the  temptation  will 
be  to  leave  your  religion  in  the  room  with  the  blinds 
down  and  the  door  bolted,  and  then  you  will  come  back 
in  the  autumn  to  find  that  it  is  starved  and  suffocated, 
lying  stretched  on  the  rug,  stark  dead.  There  is  no  sur- 
plus of  piety  at  the  watering-places.  I  never  knew  any 
one  to  grow  very  rapidly  in  grace  at  the  Catskill  Moun- 
tain House,  or  Sharon  Springs,  or  the  Falls  of  Montmo- 
rency. It  is  generally  the  case  that  the  Sabbath  is  more 
of  a  carousal  than  any  other  day,  and  there  are  Sunday 
walks,  and  Sunday  rides,  and  Sunday  excursions. 
Elders,  and  deacons,  and  ministers  of  religion,  who  are 
entirely  consistent  at  home,  sometimes  when  the  Sab- 
bath dawns  on  them  at  Niagara  Falls,  or  the  White 
Mountains,  take  the  day  to  themselves.  If  they  go  to 
the    church,  it  is  apt   to  be  a  sacred   parade,  and 


WATERING  PLACES. 


173 


the  discourse,  instead  of  being  a  plain  talk  about  the 
soul,  is  apt  to  be  what  is  called  a  crack  sermon 
— that  is,  some  discourse  picked  out  of  the  effusions  of 
the  year  as  the  one  most  adapted  to  excite  admiration  ; 
and  in  those  churches,  from  the  way  the  ladies  hold  their 
fans,  you  know  that  they  are  not  so  much  impressed 
with  the  heat  as  with  the  picturesqueness  of  half  dis- 
closed features.  Four  puny  souls  stand  in  the  organ  loft 
and  squall  a  tune  that  nobody  knows,  and  worshippers, 
with  two  thousand  dollars  worth  of  diamonds  on  the 
right  hand,  drop  a  cent  into  the  poor-box,  and  then  the 
benediction  is  pronounced,  and  the  farce  is  ended.  The 
toughest  thing  I  ever  tried  to  do  was  to  be  good  at  a 
watering,  pi  ace. 

The  air  is  bewitched  with  the  "world,  the  flesh,  and 
devil."  There  are  Christians  who,  in  three  or  four  weeks 
in  such  a  place,  have  had  such  terrible  rents  made  in 
their  Christian  robe,  that  they  had  to  keep  darning  it 
until  Christmas  to  get  it  mended!  The  health  of  a  great 
many  people  makes  an  annual  visit  to  some  mineral 
spring  an  absolute  necessity;  but,  my  dear  people,  take 
your  Bible  along  with  you,  and  take  an  hour  for  secret 
prayer  every  day,  though  you  be  surrounded  by  guffaw 
and  saturnalia.  Keep  holy  the  Sabbath,  though  they 
deride  you  as  a  bigoted  Puritan.  Stand  off  from  John 
Morrissey's  gambling  hell,  and  those  other  institutions 
which  propose  to  imitate  on  this  side  the  water  the  in- 
iquities of  Baden-Baden.  Let  }rour  moral  and  your  im- 
mortal health  keep  pace  with  your  physical  recuperation 
and  remember  that  all  the  waters  of  Hathorne,  and  sul- 
phur and  chalybeate  springs  cannot  do  you  so  much 
good  as  the  mineral,  healing,  perrennial  flood  that  breaks 
forth  from  the  "Rock  of  Ages."  This  may  be  your  last 
summer.    If  so,  make  it  a  fit  vestibule  of  heaven.  ' 


174 


WATERING  PLACES. 


Another  temptation,  however,  around  nearly  all  onr 
watering-places,  is  the  horse-racing  business.  We  all 
admire  the  horse;  but  we  do  not  think  that  its  beauty, 
or  speed,  ought  to  be  cultured  at  the  expense  of  human 
degradation.  The  horse-race  is  not  of  such  importance 
as  the  human  race.  The  Bible  intimates  that  a  man  is 
better  than  a  sheep,  and  I  suppose  he  is  better  than  a 
horse,  though,  like  Job's  stallion,  his  neck  be  clothed  with 
thunder. 

Horse-races  in  olden  times  were  under  the  ban  of 
Christian  people;  and  in  our  day  the  same  institution 
has  come  up  under  fictitious  names.  And  it  is  called  a 
"Summer  Meeting,"  almost  suggestive  of  positive  relig- 
ious exercises.  And  it  is  called  an  "Agricultural  Fair," 
suggestive  of  everything  that  is  improving  in  the  art  of 
farming.  But  under  these  deceptive  titles  are  the  same 
cheating,  and  the  same  betting,  and  the  same  drunken- 
ness, and  the  same  vagabondage,  and  the  same  abomina- 
tions that  were  to  be  found  under  the  old  horse-racing 
system.  I  never  knew  a  man  yet  who  could  give  him- 
self to  the  pleasures  of  the  turf  for  a  long  reach  of  time 
and  not  be  battered  in  morals.  They  hook  up  their 
spanking  team,  and  put  on  their  sporting  cap,  and  light 
their  cigar,  and  take  the  reins,  and  dash  down  the  road 
to  perdition!  The  great  day  at  Saratoga  and  Long 
Branch,  and  Cape  May,  and  nearly  all  the  other  water- 
ing-places, is  the  day  of  the  races.  The  hotels  are 
thronged,  every  kind  of  equipage  is  taken  up  at  an 
almost  fabulous  price;  and  there  are  many  respectable 
people  mingling  with  jockies  and  gamblers,  and  liber- 
tines, and  foul-mouthed  men  and  flashy  women.  The 
bar-tender  stirs  up  the  brandy  smash.  The  bets  run 
high.  The  greenhorns,  supposing  all  is  fair,  put  in  their 
money,  soon  enough  to  lose  it.     Three  weeks  before 


WATERING  PLACES. 


175 


the  race  takes  place  the  struggle  is  decided,  and  the  men 
in  the  secret  know  on  which  steed  to  bet  their  money. 
The  two  men  on  the  horses  riding  around,  long  before 
arranged  who  shall  beat.  Leaning  from  the  stand  or 
from  the  carriage,  are  men  and  women  so  absorbed  in 
the  struggle  of  bone  and  muscle,  and  mettle,  that  they 
make  a  grand  harvest  for  the  pickpockets  who  carry  off 
the  pocket-books  and  portmonnaies.  Men  looking  on  see 
only  two  horses  with  two  riders  flying  around  the  ring; 
but  there  is  many  a  man  on  that  stand  whose  honor,  and 
domestic  happiness,  and  fortune — white  mane,  white 
foot,  white  flank — are  in  the  ring,  racing  with  in- 
ebriety, and  with  fraud,  and  with  profanity,  and  with 
ruin — black  neck,  black  foot,  black  flank.  Neck  and 
neck,  they  go  in  that  moral  Epsom.  White  horse  of 
honor;  black  horse  of  ruin.  Death  says:  UI  will  bet 
on  the  black  horse."  Spectator  says:  "I  will  bet  on  the 
white  horse."  The  white  horse  of  honor  a  little  way 
ahead.  The  black  horse  of  ruin,  Satan  mounted,  all  the 
time  gaining  on  him.  Spectator  breathless.  Put  on  the 
lash.  Dig  in  the  spurs.  There!  They  are  past  the 
stand.  Sure.  Just  as  I  expected  it.  The  black  horse 
of  ruin  has  won  the  race,  and  all  the  galleries  of  dark- 
ness "huzza!  huzza!"  and  the  devils  come  in  to  pick  up 
their  wagers.  Ah,  my  friends,  have  nothing  to  do  with 
horse-racing  dissipations  this  summer.  Long  ago  the  Eng- 
lish government  got  through  looking  to  the  turf  for  the 
dragoon  and  light  cavalry  horse.  They  found  the  turf  de- 
preciates the  stock;  and  it  is  yet  worse  for  men.  Thomas 
Hughes,  the  member  of  Parliament,  and  the  author 
known  all  the  world  over,  hearing  that  a  new  turf  enter- 
prise was  being  started  in  this  country,  wrote  a  letter  in 
which  he  said:  "  Heaven  help  you,  then;  for  of  all  the 
cankers  of  our  old  civilisation,  there  is  nothing  in  this 


176 


WATERING  PLACES. 


country  approaching  in  unblushing  meanness,  in  rascality 
holding  its  head  high,  to  this  belauded  institution  of  the 
British  turf. 5  Another  famous  sportsman  writes:  "How 
many  fine  domains  have  been  shared  among  these  hosts 
of  rapacious  sharks  during  the  last  two  hundred  years; 
and  unless  the  system  be  altered,  how  many  more  are 
doomed  to  fall  into  the  same  gulf!"  The  Duke  of  Ham- 
ilton, through  his  horse-racing  proclivities,  in  three 
years  got  through  his  entire  fortune  of  £70,000;  and  I 
will  say  that  some  of  you  are  being  undermined  by  it. 
With  the  bull-fights  of  Spain  and  the  bear-baitings  of 
the  pit,  may  the  Lord  God  annihilate  the  infamous  and 
accursed  horse-racing  of  England  and  America. 

I  go  further  and  speak  of  another  temptation  that 
hovers  over  the  watering  place;  and  this  is  the  temptation 
to  sacrifice  physical  strength.  The  modern  Bethesda, 
just  like  this  Bethesda  of  the  text,  was  intended  to  re- 
cuperate the  physical  health;  and  yet  how  many  come 
from  the  watering-places,  their  health  absolutely  de- 
stroyed. 

New  York  and  Brooklyn  idiots,  boasting  of  having 
imbibed  twenty  glasses  of  congress  water  before  break- 
fast. Families  accustomed  to  goin^  to  bed  at  ten  o'clock 
at  night,  gossiping  until  one  or  two  o'clock  in  the  morn- 
ing. Dyspeptics,  usually  very  cautious  about  their 
health,  mingling  ice-creams,  and  lemons,  and  lobster- 
salads,  and  cocoanuts  until  the  gastric  juices  lift  up  all 
their  voices  of  lamentation  and  protest.  Delicate  women 
and  brainless  young  men  chassezing  themselves  into 
vertigo  and  catalepsy.  Thousands  of  men  and  women 
coming  back  from  our  watering-places  in  the  autumn 
with  the  foundations  laid  for  ailments  that  will  last  them 
all  their  life  long.  You  know  as  well  as  I  do  that  this 
is  the  simple  truth.    In  the  summer,  you  say  to  your 


WATERING  PLACES. 


.77 


good  health:  "Good-b}7;  I  am  going  to  have  a  good  time 
for  a  little  while;  I  will  be  very  glad  to  see  you  again  in 
the  autumn."  Then  in  the  autumn,  when  you  are  hard 
at  work  in  your  office,  or  store,  or  shop,  or  counting- 
room,  Good  Health  will  come  in  and  say:  "Good-by;  I 
am  going."  You  say:  u "Where  are  you  going?"  "O!" 
says  Good  Health,  "I  am  going  to  take  a  vacation."  It 
is  a  poor  rule  that  will  not  work  both  ways,  and  your 
good  health  will  leave  you  choleric,  and  splenetic,  and 
exhausted.  You  coquetted  with  your  good  health  in  the 
summer-time,  and  your  good  health  is  coquetting  with 
you  in  the  winter- time.  A  fragment  of  Paul's  charge 
.to  the  jailer  would  be  an  appropriate  inscription  for  the 
hotel  register  in  every  watering-place:  "Do  thyself  no 
harm." 

Another  temptation  hovering  around  the  watering- 
place  is  to  the  formation  of  hasty  and  life-long  alliances. 
The  watering-places  are  responsible  for  more  of  the  do- 
mestic infelicities  of  this  country  than  all  other  things 
combined.  Society  is  so  artificial  there  that  no  sure 
judgment  of  character  can  be  formed.  They  who  form 
companionships  amid  such  circumstances,  go  into  a  lot- 
tery where  there  are  twenty  blanks  to  one  prize.  In  the 
severe  tug  of  life  you  want  more  than  glitter  and  splash. 
Life  is  not  a  ball-room,  where  the  music  decides  the  step, 
and  bow,  and  prance,  and  graceful  swing  of  long  trail 
can  make  up  for  strong  common  sense.  Yrou  might  as 
well  go  among  the  gaily-painted  yachts  of  a  summer 
regatta  to  find  war  vessels,  as  to  go  among  the  light 
spray  of  the  summer  watering-place  to  find  character 
that  can  stand  the  test  of  the  great  struggle  of  human 
life.  Ah,  in  the  battle  of  life  you  want  a  stronger  weapon 
than  a  lace  fan  or  a  croquet  mallet!  The  load  of  life  is 
so  heavy  that  in  order  to  draw  it  you  want  a  team 
12 


17S 


W A  T  ERI NO  rL AC  E8. 


stronger  than  one  made  up  of  a  masculine  grasshopper 
and  a  feminine  butterfly.  If  there  is  an)7  man  in  the 
community  that  excites  my  contempt,  and  that  ought  to 
excite  the  contempt  of  every  man  and  woman,  it  is  the 
soft-handed,  soft-headed  fop,  who,  perfumed  until  the 
air  is  actually  sick,  spends  his  summer  in  taking  killing 
attitudes,  and  waving  sentimental  adieus,  and  talking 
infinitesimal  nothings,  and  finding  his  heaven  in  the  set 
of  a  lavender  kid-glove.  Boots  as  tight  as  an  inquisition. 
Two  hours  of  consummate  skill  exhibited  in  the  tie  of  a 
flaming  cravat.  His  conversation  made  up  of  "Ahs!" 
and  "Ohs!"  and  "Ile-hes!"  It  would  take  five  hundred 
of  them  stewed  down  to  make  a  teaspoonful  of  calfs- 
foot  jelly.  There  is  only  one  counterpart  to  such  a  man 
as  that,  and  that  is  the  frothy  young  woman  at  the  water- 
ing-place; her  conversation  made  up  of  French  moon- 
shine; what  she  has  on  her  head  only  equalled  by  what 
she  has  on  her  back;  useless  ever  since  she  was  born,  and 
to  be  useless  until  she  is  dead;  and  what  they  will  do 
with  her  in  the  next  wrorld  I  do  not  know,  except  to  set 
her  up  on  the  banks  of  the  River  of  Life,  for  eternity,  to 
look  sweet!  God  intends  us  to  admire  music,  and  fair 
faces  and  graceful  step;  but  amid  the  heartlessness,  and 
the  inflation  and  the  fantastic  influences  of  our  modern 
watering-places,  beware  how  you  make  life-long  cove- 
nants. 

Another  temptation  that  will  hover  over  the  watering- 
place  is  that  to  baneful  literature.  Almost  everyone 
starting  off  for  the  summer  takes  some  reading  matter. 
It  is  a  book  out  of  the  library,  or  olf  the  bookstand,  or 
bought  of  the  boy  hawking  books  through  the  cars.  I 
really  believe  there  is  more  pestiferous  trash  read  among 
the  intelligent  classes  in  July  and  August  than  in  all  the 
other  ten  months  of  the  year    Men  and  women  who  at 


WATERING  PLACES. 


17U 


home  would  not  be  satisfied  with  a  book  that  was  not 
really  sensible,  I  found  sitting  on  hotel  piazza,  or  under 
the  trees,  reading  books,  the  index  of  which  would  make 
them  blush  if  they  knew  that  you  knew  what  the  book 
was.  "0."  they  say,  "you  must  have  intellectual  recrea- 
tion." Yes.  There  is  no  need  that  you  take  along  into 
a  watering-place,  "Hamilton's  Metaphysics,"  or  some 
thunderous  discourse  on  the  eternal  decrees,  or  "Fara- 
day's Philosophy. "  There  are  many  easy  books  that  are 
good.  You  might  as  well  say:  "I  propose  now  to  give 
a  little  rest  to  my  digestive  organs,  and  instead  of  eat- 
ing heavy  meat  and  vegetables,  I  will,  for  a  little  while, 
take  lighter  food— a  little  strychnine  and  a  few  grains  of 
ratsbane."  Literary  poison  in  August  is  as  bad  as  liter- 
ary poison  in  December.  Mark  that.  Do  not  let  the 
frogs  and  the  lice  of  a  corrupt  printing-press  jump  and 
crawl  into  your  Saratoga  trunk  or  White  Mountain  va- 
lise. Would  it  not  be  an  awful  thing  for  you  to  be  struck 
with  lightning  some  day  when  you  had  in  your  hand  one 
of  these  paper-covered  romances — the  hero  a  Parisian 
roue,  the  heroine  an  unprincipled  flirt — chapters  in  the 
book  that  you  would  not  read  to  your  children  at  the 
rate  of  a  hundred  dollars  a  line.  Throw  out  all  that  stuff 
from  your  summer  baggage.  Are  there  not  good  books 
that  are  easy  to  read — books  of  entertaining  travel; 
books  of  congenial  history;  books  of  pure  fun;  books  of 
poetry,  ringing  with  merry  canto;  books  of  fine  engrav- 
ing; books  that  will  rest  the  mind  as  svell  as  purify  the 
heart  and  elevate  the  whole  life?  My  hearers,  there  will 
not  be  an  hour  between  this  and  the  day  of  your  death 
when  you  can  afford  to  read  a  book  lacking  in  moral 
principle. 

Another  temptation  hovering  ail  around  our  watering- 
places,  is  to  intoxicating  beverage.    I  am  told  that  it  is 


180 


WATERING  PLACES. 


becoming  more  and  more  fashionable  for  women,  to 
drink;  and  it  is  not  very  lung  ago  that  a  lady  of  great 
respectability,  in  this  city,  having  taken  two  glasses  of 
wine  away  from  home,  became  violent,  and  her  friends, 
ashamed,  forsook  her,  and  she  was  carried  to  a  police 
station,  and  afterward  to  her  disgraced  home.  I  care 
not  how  well  a  woman  may  dress,  if  she  has  taken  enough 
of  wine  to  flush  her  cheek  and  put  a  glassiness  on  her 
eye,  she  is  intoxicated.  She  maybe  handed  into  a  2500 
dollar  carriage,  and  have  diamonds  enough  to  confound 
the  Tiffany's — she  is  intoxicated.  She  may  be  a  gradu- 
ate of  Packer  Institute,  and  the  daughter  of  some  man 
in  danger  of  being  nominated  for  the  Presidency — she 
is  drunk.  You  may  have  a  larger  vocabulary  than  I 
have,  and  you  may  say  in  regard  to  her  that  she  is  ''con- 
vivial," or  she  is  "merry,"  or  she  is  "festive,"  or  she  is 
''exhilarated;"  but  you  cannot,  with  all  your  garlands  of 
verbiage,  cover  up  the  plain  fact  that  it  is  an  old-fash- 
ioned case  of  drunk.  !Now  the  watering-places  are  full 
of  temptations  to  men  and  women  to  tipple.  At  the 
close  of  the  tenpin  or  billiard  game,  they  tipple.  At 
the  close  of  the  cotillion,  they  tipple.  Seated  on  the 
piazza  cooling  themselves  off,  they  tipple.  The  tinged 
glasses  come  around  with  bright  straws,  and  they  tipple. 
First,  they  take  "  light  wines"  as  they  call  them;  but 
"light  wines,"  are  heavy  enough  to  debase  the  appetite. 
There  is  not  a  very  long  road  between  champagne  at  five 
dollars  a  bottle  and  whisky  at  five  cents  a  glass.  Satar. 
has  three  or  four  grades  down  which  he  takes  men  tr 
destruction.  One  man  he  takes  up,  and  through  one 
spree  pitches  him  into  eternal  darkness.  That  is  a  rare 
Case.  Yery  seldom,  indeed,  can  you  find  a  man  who 
will  be  such  a  tool  as  that.  Satan  will  take  another  man 
to  a  grade,  to  a  descent  at  an  angle  about  like  the  Penn- 


WATERING  PLACES. 


181 


sylvania  coal-sbute,  or  the  Blount  Washington  lail  track, 
and  shove  him  off.  But  that  is  very  rare.  When  a  man 
goes  down  to  destruction,  Satan  brings  him  to  a  plane. 
It  is  almost  a  level.  The  depression  is  so  slight  that 
you  can  hardly  see  it.  The  man  does  not  actually  know 
that  he  is  on  the  down  grade,  and  it  tips  only  a  little 
toward  darkness — just  a  little.  And  the  first  mile  it  is 
claret,  and  the  second  mile  it  is  sherry,  and  the  third 
mile  it  is  punch,  and  the  fourth  mile  it  is  ale,  and  the 
fifth  mile  it  is  porter,  and  the  sixth  mile  it  is  brandy, 
and  then  it  gets  steeper,  and  steeper,  and  steeper,  and 
the  man  gets  frightened,  and  says:  "O,  let  me  get  off." 
"No,"  says  the  conductor,  "this  is  an  express-train,  and 
it  don't  stop  until  it  gets  to  the  Grand  Central  depot  of 
Smashupton!"  Ah,  "Look  not  thou  upon  the  wine  when 
it  is  red,  when  it  giveth  its  color  in  the  cup,  when  it 
moveth  itself  aright.  At  the  last  it  biteth  like  a  serpent, 
and  stingeth  like  an  adder."  And  if  any  young  man  of 
my  congregation  should  get  astray  this  summer  in  this 
direction,  it  will  not  be  because  I  have  not  given  him 
fair  warning. 

My  friends,  whether  you  tarry  at  home — which  will  be 
quite  as  safe  and  perhaps  quite  as  comfortable — or  go 
into  the  country,  arm  yourself  against  temptation.  The 
grace  of  God  is  the  only  safe  shelter,  whether  in  town  or 
country.  There  are  watering-places  accessible  to  all  of 
us.  You  cannot  open  a  book  of  the  Bible  without  find- 
ing out  some  such  watering-place.  Fountains  open  for 
sin  and  uncleanness.  Wells  of  salvation.  Streams  from 
Lebanon.  A  flood  struck  out  of  the  rock  by  Moses. 
Fountains  in  the  wilderness  discovered  by  Hagar.  Water 
to  drink  and  water  to  bathe  in.  The  river  of  God  which 
is  full  of  water.  Water  of  which  if  a  man  drink,  he 
shall  never  thirst.    Wells  of  water  in  the  Valley  of  Baca. 


182 


WATERING  PLACES. 


Living  fountains  of  water.  A  pure  river  of  water  as 
clear  as  crystal  from  under  the  throne  of  God.  These 
are  watering-places  accessible  to  all  of  us.  We  do  not 
have  a  laborious  packing  up  before  we  start — only  the 
throwing  away  of  our  transgressions.  No  expensive 
hotel  bills  to  pay;  it  is  "without  money  and  without 
price."  No  long  and  dusty  travel  before  we  get  there; 
it  is  only  one  step  away.  In  California,  in  five  minutes 
I  walked  around  and  saw  ten  fountains  all  bubbling  up, 
and  they  were  all  different;  and  in  five  minutes  I  can  go 
through  this  Bible  parterre  and  find  you  fifty  bright, 
sparkling  fountains  bubbling  up  into  eternal  life — heal- 
ing and  therapeutic.  A  chemist  will  go  to  one  of  these 
summer  watering-places  and  take  the  water,  and  analyze 
it,  and  tell  you  that  it  contains  so  much  of  iron,  and  so 
much  of  soda,  and  so  much  of  lime,  and  so  much  of 
magnesia.  I  come  to  this  Gospel  well,  this  living  foun- 
tain, and  analyze  the  water;  and  I  find  that  its  ingredi- 
ents are  peace,  pardon,  forgiveness,  hope,  comfort,  life, 
heaven.  "Ho,  every  one  that  thirsteth,  come  ye"  to  this 
watering-place.  Crowd  around  this  Bethesda  this  morn- 
ing. O,  you  sick,  you  lame,  you  troubled,  you  dying — 
crowd  around  this  Bethesda.  Step  in  it,  oh,  step  in  it! 
The  angel  of  the  covenant  this  morning  stirs  the  water! 
Why  do  you  not  step  in  it?  Some  of  you  are  too  weak 
to  take  a  step  in  that  direction.  Then  we  take  you  up 
in  the  arms  of  our  closing  prayer,  and  plunge  you  clean 
under  the  wave,  hoping  that  the  cure  may  be  as  sudden 
and  as  radical  as  with  Captain  Naaman,  who,  blotched 
and  carbuncled,  stepped  into  the  Jordan,  and  after  the 
seventh  dive  came  up,  his  skin  roseate  complexioned  as 
the  flesh  of  a  little  child. 


THE  TIDES  OF  MUNICIPAL  SIN. 


183 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

THE  TIDES  OF  MUNICIPAL  SIN. 

He  beheld  the  city,  and  wept  over  it. — Luke  xix:  41. 

The  citizens  of  Old  Jerusalem  are  in  the  tip- top  of 
excitement.  A  country  man  has  been  doing  some  won- 
derful works  and  asserting  very  high  authority.  The 
police  court  has  issued  papers  for  his  arrest,  for  this 
thing  must  be  stopped,  as  the  very  government  is  im- 
perilled. News  comes  that  last  night  this  stranger 
arrived  at  a  suburban  village,  and  that  he  is  stopping  at 
the  house  of  a  man  whom  he  had  resuscitated  after  four 
days'  sepulture.  Well,  the  people  rush  out  into  the 
streets,  some  with  the  idea  of  helping  in  the  arrest  of 
this  stranger  when  he  arrives,  and  others  expecting  that 
on  the  morrow  he  will  come  into  the  town,  and  by  some 
supernatural  force  oust  the  municipal  and  royal  authori- 
ties and  take  everything  in  his  own  hands.  They  pour 
out  of  the  city  gates  until  the  procession  reaches  to  the 
village.  They  come  all  around  about  the  house  where  the 
stranger  is  stopping,  and  peer  into  the  doors  and  windows 
that  they  may  get  one  glimpse  of  him  or  hear  the  hum  of 
his  voice.  The  police  dare  not  make  the  arrest  because  he 
has,  somehow,  won  the  affections  of  all  the  people.  O, 
it  is  a  lively  night  in  Bethany.  The  heretofore  quiet 
village  is  tilled  with  uproar,  and  outcry,  and  loud  discus- 
sion about  the  strange  acting  countryman.  I  do  not 
think  there  was  any  sleep  in  that  house  that  night  where 
the  stranger  was  stopping.  Although  he  came  in  weary 
he  finds  no  rest,  though  for  once  in  his  lifetime  he  had 


184 


THE  TIDES  OF  MUNICIPAL  SIN. 


a  pillow.  But  the  morning  dawns,  the  olive  gardens 
wave  in  the  light,  and  all  along  the  road,  reaching  over 
the  top  of  Olivet  toward  Jerusalem,  there  is  a  vast  sway- 
ing crowd  of  wondering  people.  The  exciiement  around 
the  door  of  the  cottage  is  wild,  as  the  stranger  steps  out 
beside  an  unbroken  colt  that  had  never  been  mounted, 
and  after  his  friends  had  strewn  their  garments  on  the 
beast  for  a  saddle,  the  Saviour  mounts  it,  and  the  popu- 
lace, excited,  and  shouting,  and  feverish,  push  on  back 
toward  Jerusalem.  Let  none  jeer  now  or  scoff  at  this 
rider,  or  the  populace  will  trample  him  under  foot  in  an 
instant.  .There  is  one  long  shout  of  two  miles,  and  as 
far  as  the  eye  can  reach  you  see  wavings  of  demonstra- 
tions and  approval.  There  was  something  in  the  rider's 
visage,  something  in  his  majestic  brow,  something  in 
his  princely  behavior,  that  stirs  up  the  enthusiasm  of 
the  people.  They  run  up  against  the  beast  and  try  to 
pull  off  into  their  arms,  and  carry  on  their  shoulders,  the 
illustrious  stranger.  The  populace  are  so  excited  that 
they  hardly  know  what  to  do  with  themselves,  and  some 
rush  up  to  the  roadside  trees  and  wrench  off  branches 
and  throw  them  in  his  way;  and  others  doff  their  gar- 
ments, what  though  they  be  new  and  costly,  and  spread 
them  for  a  carpet  for  the  conqueror  to  ride  over.  "  Ho- 
sanna!"  cry  the  people  at  the  foot  of  the  hill.  "Ho- 
sanna!"  cry  the  people  all  up  and  down  the  mountain. 
The  procession  has  now  come  to  the  brow  of  Olivet. 
Magnificent  prospect  reaching  out  in  every  direction — 
vineyards,  olive  groves,  jutting  rock,  silvery  Siloam,  and 
above  all,  rising  on  its  throne  of  hills,  the  most  highly 
honored  city  of  all  the  earth,  Jerusalem.  Christ  there, 
in  the  midst  of  the  procession,  looks  off,  and  sees  here 
fortressed  gates,  and  yonder  the  circling  wall,  and  here 
the  towers  blazing  in  the  sun,  Phasrelus  and  Mariamne. 


THE  TIDES  OF  MUNICIPAL  SIN. 


1S5 


Yonder  is  Hippicus,  the  king's  castle.  Looking  along 
in  the  range  of  the  larger  branch  of  that  olive  tree  }^ou 
see  the  mansions  of  the  merchant  princes.  Through 
this  cleft  in  the  limestone  rock  you  see  the  palace  of  the 
richest  trafficker  in  all  the  earth.  He  has  made  his 
money  by  selling  Tyrian  purple.  Behold  now  the  Tem- 
ple! Clouds  of  smoke  lifting  from  the  shimmering 
roof,  while  the  building  rises  up  beautiful,  grand,'  ma- 
jestic, the  architectural  skill  and  glory  of  the  earth  lift- 
ing themselves  there  in  one  triumphant  doxology,  the 
frozen  prayer  of  all  nations. 

The  crowd  looked  around  to  see  exhilaration  and 
transport  in  the  face  of  Christ.  O,  no!  Out  from  amid 
the  gates,  and  the  domes,  and  the  palaces  there  arose  a 
vision  of  that  city's  sin,  and  of  that  city's  doom,  which 
obliterated  the  landscape  from  horizon  to  horizon,  and 
he  burst  into  tears.  u  He  beheld  the  city,  and  wept 
over  it." 

Standing  in  some  high  tower  of  the  beloved  city  ot 
our  residence,  we  might  look  off  upon  a  wondrous  scene 
of  enterprise,  and  wealth,  and  beauty;  long  streets  faced 
by  comfortable  homes,  here  and  there  rising  into  afflu- 
ence, while  we  might  find  thousands  of  people  who 
would  be  glad  to  cast  palm  branches  in  the  way  of  him 
who  comes  from  Bethany  to  Jerusalem,  greeting  him 
with  the  vociferation:  "  Hosanna!  to  the  Son  of  David." 
And  yet  how  much  there  is  to  mourn  over  in  our  cities. 
Passing  along  the  streets  to-day  are  a  great  multitude. 
Whither  do  they  go?  To  church.  Thank  God  for 
that.  Listen,  this  morning,  and  you  hear  multitudi- 
nous voices  of  praise.  Thank  God  for  that.  When  the 
evening  falls  you  will  find  Christian  men  and  women 
knocking  at  hovels  of  poverty,  and  finding  no  light, 
taking  the   matches   from   their  pocket,  and   by  a 


186 


THE  TIDES  OF  MUNICIPAL  SIN. 


momentary  glance  revealing  wan  faces,  and  wasted 
hands,  and  ragged  bed,  sending  in  before  morning,  can- 
dles and  vials  of  medicine,  and  Bibles  and  loaves  of 
bread,  and  two  or  three  flowers  from  the  hot-house. 
Thank  God  for  all  that.  But  listen  again,  and  you  hear 
the  thousand-voiced  shriek  of  blasphemy  tearing  its  way 
up  from  the  depths  of  the  city.  You  see  the  uplifted  de- 
canters emptied  now,  but  uplifted  to  fight  down  the 
devils  they  have  raised.  Listen  to  that  wild  laugh  at 
the  street  corner,  that  makes  the  pure  shudder  and  say: 
"  Poor  thing,  that's  a  lost  soul!"  Hark!  to  the  click  of 
the  gambler's  dice  and  the  hysteric  guffaw  of  him  who 
has  pocketed  the  last  dollar  of  that  young  man's  estate. 
This  is  the  banquet  of  Bacchus.  That  young  man  has 
taken  his  first  glass.  That  man  has  taken  down  three- 
fourths  of  his  estate.  This  man  is  trembling  with  last 
night's  debauch.  This  man  has  pawned  everything  save 
that  old  coat.  This  man  is  in  delirium,  sitting  pale  and 
unaware  of  anything  that  is  transpiring  about  him — 
quiet  until  after  awhile  he  rises  up  with  a  shriek, 
enough  to  make  the  denizens  of  the  pit  clap  to  the  door 
and  put  their  fingers  in  their  ears,  and  rattle  their 
chains  still  louder  to  drown  out  the  horrible  outcry. 
You  say :  "  Is  it  not  strange  that  there  should  be  so 
much  suffering  and  sin  in  our  cities?"  No,  it  is  not 
strange.  When  I  look  abroad  and  see  the  temptations 
that  are  attempting  to  destroy  men  for  time  and  eter- 
nity, I  am  surprised  in  the  other  direction  that  there  are 
any  true,  upright,  honest,  Christian  people  left.  There 
is  but  little  hope  for  any  man  in  these  great  cities  who 
has  not  established  in  his  soul, sound,  thorough  Chris- 
tian principle. 

First,  look  around  you  and  see  the  temptations  to 
commercial  frauds.    Here  is  a  man  who  starts  in  busi- 


THE  TIDES  OF  MUNICIPAL  SIN. 


187 


ness.  He  says:  "I'm  going  to  be  honest;"  but  on  the 
same  street,  on  the  same  block,  in  the  same  business, 
are  Shylocks.  Those  men,  to  get  the  patronage  of  any 
one,  will  break  all  understandings  with  other  merchants, 
and  will  sell  at  ruinous  cost,  putting  their  neighbors  at 
great  disadvantage,  expecting  to  make  up  the  deficit  in 
something  else.  If  an  honest  principle  could  creep  into 
that  man's  soul,  it  would  die  of  sheer  loneliness!  The 
man  twists  about,  trying  to  escape  the  penalty  of  the 
law,  and  despises  God,  while  he  is  just  a  little  anxious 
about  the  sheriff.  The  honest  man  looks  about  him  and 
says:  "  Well,  this  rivalry  is  awful.  Perhaps  I  am  more 
scrupulous  than  I  need  be.  This  little  bargain  I  am 
about  to  enter  is  a  little  doubtful;  but  then  they  all  do 
it."  And  so  I  had  a  friend  who  started  in  commercial 
life,  and  as  a  book  merchant,  with  a  high  resolve.  He 
said:  "In  my  store  there  shall  be  no  books  that  I  would 
not  have  my  family  read."  Time  passed  on,  and  one 
day  I  went  into  his  store  and  found  some  iniquitous 
books  on  the  shelf,  and  I  said  to  him:  "  How  is  it  possi- 
ble that  you  can  consent  to  sell  such  books  as  these?" 
"Oh,"  he  replied:  "I  have  got  over  those  puritanical 
notions.  A  man  cannot  do  business  in  this  day  unless 
he  does  it  in  the  way  other  people  do  it."  To  make  a 
long  story  short,  he  lost  his  hope  of  heaven,  and  in  a 
little  while  he  lost  his  morality,  and  then  he  went  into  a 
mad-house.  In  other  words,  when  a  man  casts  off  God, 
God  casts  him  off. 

One  of  the  mightiest  temptations  in  commercial  life, 
in  all  our  cities,  to-day,  is  in  the  tact  that  many  professed 
Christian  men  are  not  square  in  their  bargains.  Such 
men  are  in  Baptist,  and  Methodist,  and  Congregational 
Churches,  and  our  own  denomination  is  as  largely  rep- 
resented as  any  of  them.    Our  good  merchants  are  fore- 


188 


THE  TIDES  OF  MUNICIPAL  SIN. 


most  in  Christian  enterprises;  they  are  patronizers  of 
art,  philanthropic  and  patriotic.  God  will  attend  to 
them  in  the  day  of  His  coronation.  I  am  not  speak- 
ing of  them,  but  of  those  in  commercial  life  who 
are  setting  a  ruinous  example  to  our  young  merchants. 
Go  through  all  the  stores  and  offices  in  the  city,  and  tell 
me  in  how  many  of  those  stores  and  offices  are  the  prin- 
ciples of  Christ's  religion  dominant?  In  three-fourths 
of  them?  No.  In  half  of  them?  No.  In  one-tenth 
of  them?    No.    Decide  for  yourself. 

The  impression  is  abroad,  somehow,  that  charity  can 
consecrate  iniquitous  gains,  aud  that  if  a  man  give  to 
God  a  portion  of  an  unrighteous  bargain,  then  the  Lord 
will  forgive  him  the  rest.  The  secretary  of  a  benevolent 
society  came  tome  and  said:  "Mr.  So-and-So  has  given 
a  large  amount  of  money  to  the  missionary  cause,"  men- 
tioning the  sum.  I  said:  "  I  can't  believe  it."  He  said: 
"It  is  so."  Well,  I  went  home,  staggered  and  con- 
founded. I  never  knew  the  man  to  give  to  anything; 
but  after  awhile  I  found  out  that  he  had  been  engaged  in 
the  most  infamous  kind  of  an  oil  swindle,  and  then  he 
proposed  to  compromise  the  matter  with  the  Lord,  say- 
ing: "Now,  here  is  so  much  for  Thee,  Lord.  Please  to 
let  me  off!"  I  want  to  tell  you  that  the  Church  of  God  is 
not  a  shop  for  receiving  stolen  goods,  and  that  if  you 
have  taken  anything  from  your  fellows,  you  had  better 
return  it  to  the  men  to  whom  it  belongs.  If,  from  the 
nature  of  the  circumstances,  that  be  impossible,  you  had 
better  get  your  stove  red  hot,  and  when  the  flames  are  at 
their  fiercest,  toss  in  the  accursed  spoil.  God  does  not 
want  it.  The  commercial  world  to-day  is  rotten  through 
and  through,  and  many  of  you  know  better  than  I  can 
tell  you  that  it  requires  great  strength  of  moral  charac- 
tor  to  withstand  the  temptations  of  business  dishones- 


THE  TIDES  OF  MUNICIPAL  SIN. 


189 


ties.  Thank  God,  a  great  many  of  you  have  withstood 
the  temptations,  and  are  as  pure,  and  upright,  and 
honest  as  the  day  when  you  entered  business.  But  you 
are  the  exceptions  in  the  case.  God  will  sustain  a  man, 
however,  amid  all  the  excitements  of  business,  if  he  will 
only  put  his  trust  in  Rim.  In  the  drug-store,  in  Phila- 
delphia, a  young  man  was  told  that  he  must  sell  blacking 
on  the  Lord's  day.  He  said  to  the  head  man  of  the  firm: 
"I  can't  possibly  do  that.  I  am  willing  to  sell  medi- 
cines on  the  Lord's  day,  for  I  think  that  is  right  and 
necessary:  but  I  can't  sell  this  patent  blacking."  He 
was  discharged  from  the  place.  A  Christian  man  hear- 
ing of  it,  took  him  into  his  employ,  and  he  went  on  from 
one  success  to  another,  until  he  was  known  all  over  the 
land  for  his  faith  in  God  and  his  good  works,  as  well  as 
for  his  worldly  success.  When  a  man  has  sacrificed  any 
temporal,  financial  good  for  the  sake  of  his  spiritual  in- 
terests, the  Lord  is  on  his  side,  and  one  with  God  is  a 
majority. 

Again:  Look  around  you  and  see  the  pressure  of 
political  life.  How  many  are  going  down  under  this 
influence.  There  is  not  one  man  out  of  a  thousand  that 
can  stand  political  life  in  our  cities.  Once  in  awhile  a 
man  comes  and  says:  "Now  I  love  my  city  and  my 
country,  and,  in  the  strength  of  God,  I  am  going  in  as  a 
sort  of  missionary  to  reform  politics."  The  Lord  is  on 
his  side.  He  comes  out  as  pure  as  when  he  went  in,  and, 
with  such  an  idea,  I  believe  he  will  be  sustained;  but  he 
is  the  exception.  When  such  an  upright,  pure  man 
does  step  into  politics,  the  first  thing,  the  newspapers 
take  the  job  of  blackening  him  all  over,  and  they  review 
all  his  past  life,  and  distort  everything  that  he  has  done, 
until,  from  thinking  himself  a  highly  respectable  citizen, 
he  begins  to  contemplate  what  a  mercy  it  is  that  he  has- 


190 


THE  TIDES  OF  MUNICIPAL  SIN. 


been  so  long  out  of  gaol.  The  most  hopeless,  God-for- 
saken people  in  all  our  cities  are  those  who,  not  in  a 
missionary  spirit,  but  with  the  idea  of  sordid  gain,  have 
gone  into  political  life.  I  pray  for  the  prisoners  in  gaol, 
and  think  they  may  be  converted  to  God,  but  I  never 
have  any  faith  to  pray  for  an  old  politician. 

Then  look  around  and  see  the  allurements  to  an  im- 
pure life.  Bad  books,  unknown  to  father  and  mother, 
vile  as  the  lice  of  Egypt,  creeping  into  some  of  the  best 
of  families  of  the  community;  and  boys  read  them 
while  the  teacher  is  looking  the  other  way,  or  at  recess, 
or  on  the  corner  of  the  street  when  the  groups  are  gath- 
ered. These  books  are  read  late  at  night.  Satan  finds 
them  a  smooth  plank  on  which  he  can  slide  down  into 
perdition  some  of  your  sons  and  daughters.  Reading 
bad  books — one  never  gets  over  it.  The  books  may  be 
burned,  but  there  is  not  enough  power  in  all  the  apoth- 
ecary's preparations  to  wash  out  the  stain  from  the  soul. 
Father's  hands,  mother's  hands,  sister's  hands,  will  not 
wash  it  out.  None  but  the  hand  of  the  Lord  God  can 
wash  it  out.  And  what  is  more  perilous  in  regard  to 
these  temptations,  we  may  not  mention  them.  While 
God  in  this  Bible,  from  chapter  to  chapter,  thunders  His 
denunciation  against  these  crimes,  people  expect  the 
pulpit  and  the  printing-press  to  be  silent  on  the  subject, 
and  just  in  proportion  as  people  are  impure  are  they 
fastidious  on  the  theme.  They  are  so  full  of  decay  and 
death  they  do  not  want  their  sepulchres  opened.  But  I 
shall  not  be  hindered  by  them.  I  shall  go  on  in  the 
name  of  the  Lord  Almighty,  before  whom  you  and  I 
must  at  last  come  in  judgment,  and  I  shall  pursue  that 
vile  sin,  and  thrust  it  with  the  two  edged-sword  of  God's 
truth,  though  I  find  it  sheltered  under  the  chandeliers  of 
some  of  your  beautiful  parlors.    God  will  turn  into  des- 


THE  TIDES  OF  MUNICIPAL  SIN. 


191 


truction  all  the  unclean,  and  no  splendors  ol  surround- 
ing can  make  decent  that  which  He  has  smitten.  God 
will  not  excuse  sin  merely  because  it  has  costly  array, 
and  beautiful  tapestry,  and  palatial  residence,  any  more 
than  He  will  excuse  that  which  crawls,  a  blotch  of  sores, 
through  the  lowest  cellar.  Ever  and  anon,  through  some 
law-suit  there  flashes  upon  the  people  of  our  great  cities 
what  is  transpiring  in  seemingly  respectable  circles.  You 
call  it  "High  life,"  you  call  it  ''Fast  living,"  you  call  it 
"People's  eccentricity. "  And  while  we  kick  off  the 
sidewalk  the  poor  wretch  who  has  not  the  means  to  gar- 
nish his  iniquity,  these  lords  and  ladies,  wrapped  in 
purple  and  fine  linen,  go  un whipped  of  public  justice. 
Ah,  the  most  dreadful  part  of  the  whole  thing  is  that 
there  are  persons  abroad  whose  whole  business  it  is  to 
despoil  the  young.  Salaried  by  infamous  establishments, 
these  cormorants  of  darkness,  these  incarnate  fiends, 
hang  around  your  hotels,  and  your  theatres,  and  they 
insinuate  themselves  among  the  clerks  of  your  stores, 
and,  by  adroitest  art,  sometimes  get  in  the  purest  circles. 
Oh,  what  an  eternity  such  a  man  as  that  will  have  I  As 
the  door  opens  to  receive  him,  thousands  of  voices  will 
cry  out:  "See  here  what  you  have  done;"  and  the  wretch 
will  wrap  himself  with  fiercer  flame  and  leap  into  deeper 
darkness,  and  the  multitudes  he  has  destroyed  will  pur- 
sue him,  and  hurl  at  him  the  long,  bitter,  relentless, 
everlasting  curse  of  their  own  anguish.  If  there  be  one 
cup  of  eternal  darkness  more  bitter  than  another,  they 
will  have  to  drink  it  to  the  dregs.  If,  in  all  the  ocean 
of  the  lost  world  that  comes  billowing  up,  there  be  one 
wave  more  fierce  than  another,  it  will  dash  over  them. 
"God  will  wound  the  hairy  scalp  of  him  who  goeth  on 
still  in  his  trespasses." 

I  think  you  are  persuaded  there  is  but  little  chance 


192 


THE  TIDES  OF  MUNICIPAL  SIN. 


here  in  Brooklyn,  or  in  New  York,  or  Philadelphia,  or 
Boston,  for  any  young  man  without  the  grace  of  God.  I 
will  even  go  further  and  make  it  more  emphatic,  and  say 
there  is  no  chance  for  any  young  man  who  has  not  above 
him,  and  beneath  him,  and  before  him,  and  behind  him, 
and  on  the  right  of  him,  and  on  the  left  of  him,  and 
within  him,  the  all-protecting  grace  of  God.  My  word 
of  warning  is  to  those  who  have  recently  come  to  the 
city;  some  of  them  entering  our  banking  institutions, 
and  some  of  them  our  stores  and  shops.  Shelter  your- 
selves in  God.  Do  not  trust  yourselves  an  hour  without 
the  defences  of  Christ's  religion. 

I  stood  one  day  at  Niagara  Falls,  and  I  saw  what  you 
may  have  seen  there,  six  rainbows  bending  over  that  tre- 
mendous plunge.  I  never  saw  anything  like  it  before  01 
since.  Six  beautiful  rainbows  arching  that  great  cat- 
aract! And  so  over  the  rapids  and  the  angry  precipices 
of  sin,  where  so  many  have  been  dashed  down,  God's  beau- 
tiful admonitions  hover,  a  warning  arching  each  peril — 
six  of  them,  fifty  of  them — a  thousand  of  them.  Be^ 
ware!  beware!  beware!  This  afternoon,  young  men, 
while  you  have  time  to  reflect  upon  these  things,  and 
before  the  duties  of  the  office  and  the  store,  and  the  shop 
come  upon  you  again,  look  over  this  whole  subject,  and 
after  the  day  has  passed,  and  you  hear  in  the  nightfall 
the  voices  and  the  footsteps  of  the  city  dying  from  your 
ear,  and  it  gets  so  silent  that  you  can  hear  distinctly 
your  watch  under  your  pillow  going  "tick,  tick!"  then 
open  your  eyes,  and  look  out  upon  the  darkness,  and  see 
two  pillars  of  light,  one  horizontal,  the  other  perpendi- 
cular, but  changing  their  direction  until  they  come  to- 
gether, and  your  enraptured  vision  beholds  it — the  okoss! 


RESPONSIBILITY  OF  CITY  RULERS. 


193 


CHAPTER  XIY. 

RESPONSIBILITY  OF  CITY  RULERS. 

O  thou  that  art  situate  at  the  entry  of  the  sea. — Ezek.  xxvii :  8. 

This  is  a  part  of  an  impassioned  apostrophe  to  the  city 
of  Tyre.  It  was  a  beautiful  city — a  majestic  city.  At 
the  east  end  of  the  Mediterranean,  it  sat  with  one  hand 
beckoning  the  inland  trade,  and  with  the  other  the  com- 
merce of  foreign  nations.  It  swung  a  monstrous  boom 
across  its  harbor  to  shut  out  foreign  enemies,  and  then 
swung  back  that  boom  to  let  in  its  friends.  The  air  of 
the  desert  was  fragrant  with  the  spices  brought  by  caravans 
to  her  fairs,  and  all  seas  were  cleft  into  foam  by  the  keel 
of  her  laden  merchantmen.  Her  markets  were  rich  with 
horses,  and  'mules,  and  camels  from  Togarmah;  with 
upholstery,  and  ebony,  and  ivory  from  Dedan;  with 
emeralds,  and  agate,  and  coral  from  Syria;  with  wine 
from  Helbon;  with  finest  needlework  from  Ashur  and 
Chilmad.  Talk  about  the  splendid  state-rooms  of  your 
White  Star  and  French  lines  of  international  steamers. 
— why  the  benches  of  the  state-rooms  in  those  Tyrian 
ships  were  all  ivory,  and  instead  of  our  coarse  canvas  on 
the  masts  of  the  shipping,  they  had  the  finest  linen,  quilted 
together,  and  inwrought  with  embroideries  almost  mirac- 
ulous for  beauty.  Its  columns  overshadowed  all  nations. 
Distant  empires  felt  its  heart  beat.  Majestic  city  1  "situate 
at  the  entry  of  the  sea." 

But  where  now  is  the  gleam  of  her  towers,  the  roar  of 
her  chariots,  the  masts  of  her  shipping?  Let  the  fisher- 
men who  dry  their  nets  on  the  place  where  she  once 
13 


194 


RESPONSIBILITY  OF  CITY  RULERS. 


stood;  let  the  sea  that  rashes  upon  the  barrenness  where 
she  once  challenged  the  admiration  of  all  nations;  let  the 
barbarians  who  build  their  huts  on  the  place  where  her 
palaces  glittered,  answer  the  question.  Blotted  out  for 
ever!  She  forgot  God,  and  God  forgot  her.  And  while 
our  modern  cities  admire  her -glory,  let  them  take  warn- 
ing at  her  awful  doom. 

Cain  was  the  founder  of  the  first  city,  and  I  suppose  it 
took  after  him  in  morals.  It  is  a  long  while  before  a  city 
can  get  over  the  character  of  those  who  founded  it. 
Were  they  criminal  exiles,  the  filth,  and  the  prisons,  and 
the  debauchery  are  the  shadows  of  such  founders.  New 
York  will  not  for  two  or  three  hundred  years  escape 
from  the  good  influences  of  its  founders, — the  pious  set- 
tlers whose  prayers  went  up  from  the  very  streets  where 
now  banks  discount,  and  brokers  shave,  and  companies 
declare  dividends,  and  smugglers  swear  Custom-house 
lies;  and  above  the  roar  of  the  drays,  and  the  crack  of 
auctioneers'  mallets  is  heard  the  ascription — "We  worship 
thee,  O  thou  almighty  dollar!"  The  church  that  once 
stood  on  Wall-street  still  throws  its  blessing  over  all  the 
scene  of  traffic,  and  upon  the  ships  that  fold  their  white 
wings  in  the  harbor.  Originally  men  gathered  in  cities 
from  necessity.  It  was  to  escape  the  incendiary's  torch 
or  the  assassin's  dagger.  Only  the  very  poor  lived  in 
the  country,  those  who  had  nothing  that  could  be  stolen, 
or  vagabonds  who  wanted  to  be  near  their  place  of  busi- 
ness; but  since  civilization  and  religion  have  made  it 
safe  for  men  to  live  almost  anywhere,  men  congregate  in 
cities  because  of  the  opportunity  for  rapid  gain.  Cities 
are  not  necessarily  evils,  as  has  sometimes  been  argued. 
They  have  been  the  birth-place  of  civilization.  In  them 
popular  liberty  ha3  lifted  up  its  voice.  Witness  Genoa, 
and  Pisa,  and  Venice.    The  entrance  of  the  representa- 


RESPONSIBILITY  OF  CITY  BULEES.  195 


tives  of  the  cities  in  the  legislatures  of  Europe  was  the 
death-blow  to  feudal  kingdoms.  Cities  are  the  patron- 
izers  of  art  and  literature, — architecture  pointing  to  its 
British  Museum  in  London,  its  Royal  Library  in  Paris, 
its  Yatican  in  Rome.  Cities  hold  the  world's  sceptre. 
Africa  was  Carthage,  Greece  was  Athens,  England  is 
London,  France  is  Paris,  Italy  is  Rome,  and  the  cluster 
of  cities  in  which  God  has  cast  our  lot  will  yet  decide 
the  destiny  of  the  American  people. 

The  particular  city  in  which  God  has  given  us  a  resi- 
dence is  under  especial  advantage.  I  may  this  morning 
apostrophize  it  in  the  words  of  my  text,  and  say:  "O 
thou  that  art  situate  at  the  entrv  of  the  sea!"  Standing 
at  the  gates  of  the  continent,  we  try  to  keep  that  which 
is  worth  keeping,  and  we  try  to  pass  on  that  which  is  of 
no  use.  The  best  pictures  are  in  our  galleries  for  exhi- 
bition, and  foreign  orators  stop  long  enough  to  speak  in 
our  halls.  The  finest  equipages  may  be  seen  on  our 
Broadway,  and  making  the  circuit  of  our  Central  and 
Prospect  Parks, — places  fascinating  with  mosque,  and 
fountains,  and  sculptured  bridges,  embowered  walks,  and 
menageries  of  wild  animals,  for  the  amusement  of  the 
people;  while  our  Croton  and  Ridge  wood  acqueducts 
pour  their  brightness  and  refreshment  into  the  hot  lips 
of  the  thirsty  cities.  Thanking  God  this  morning  for 
the  pleasant  place  in  which  He  has  cast  our  lot;  and  at 
this  season  of  the  year  when  so  many  of  the  offices  of  the 
city  are  changing  hands,  and  so  many  new  men  are  com- 
ing into  positions  of  public  trust,  I  have  thought  it  might 
be  useful  to  talk  a  little  while  about  the  moral  responsi- 
bility resting  upon  the  office-bearers  in  the  city — a  theme 
as  appropriate  to  those  who  are  governed  as  to  the  gov- 
ernors. The  moral  characters  of  those  who  rule  a  city 
has  much  to  do  with  the  character  of  the  city  itself.  Men, 


196 


RESPONSIBILITY  OF  CITY  RULERS. 


women,  and  children  are  all  interested  in  national  politics. 
When  the  great  Presidential  election  comes,  every  patriot 
wants  to  be  found  at  the  ballot  box.  We  are  all  inter- 
ested in  the  discussion  of  national  reconstruction,  national 
finance,  national  debt,  and  we  read  the  laws  of  Congress, 
and  we  are  wondering  who  will  sit  next  in  the  Presiden- 
tial chair.  Now,  that  may  be  all  very  well — is  very  well; 
but  it  is  high  time  that  we  took  some  of  the  attention 
which  we  have  been  devoting  to  national  affairs  and 
brought  it  to  the  study  of  municipal  government.  This 
it  seems  to  me  now  is  the  chief  point  to  be  taken.  Make 
the  cities  right,  and  the  nation  will  be  right.  I  have 
noticed  that  according  to  their  opportunities  there  has 
really  been  more  corruption  in  municipal  governments 
in  this  country  than  in  the  State  and  national  Legisla- 
tures. Now,  is  there  no  hope?  With  the  mightiest 
agent  in  our  hand,  the  glorious  Gospel  of  Jesus  Christ, 
shall  not  all  our  cities  be  reformed,  and  purified,  and  re- 
deemed? I  believe  the  day  will  come.  I  am  in  full 
sympathy  with  those  who  are  opposed  to  carrying  politics 
into  religion ;  but  our  cities  will  never  be  reformed  and 
purified  until  we  carry  religion  into  politics.  I  look 
over  this  city  and  I  see  that  all  our  great  interests  are  to 
be  affected  in  the  future,  as  they  have  been  affected  in  the 
past,  by  the  character  of  those  who  in  the  different  de- 
partments rule  over  us,  and  I  propose  this  morning  to 
classify  some  of  those  interests. 

In  the  first  place  I  remark:  Commercial  ethics  are 
always  affected  by  the  moral  or  immoral  character  of 
those  who  have  municipal  supremacy.  Officials  that 
wink  at  fraud,  and  that  have  neither  censure  or  arraign- 
ment for  glittering  dishonesties,  always  weaken  the  pulse 
of  commercial  honor.  Every  shop,  every  store,  every 
bazaar,  every  factory  in  your  city  feels  the  moral  charac- 


RESPONSIBILITY  OF  CITY  RULERS.  197 

ter  of  your  City  Hall.  If  in  any  city  there  be  a  dishonest 
mayoralty,  or  an  unprincipled  Common  Council,  or  a 
Court  susceptible  to  bribes,  in  that  city  there  will  be 
unlimited  license  for  all  kinds  of  trickery  and  sin;  while, 
on  the  other  hand,  if  officials  are  faithful  to  their  oath  of 
office,  if  the  laws  are  promptly  executed,  if  there  is  vigi- 
lance in  regard  to  the  outbranchiugs  of  crime,  there  is 
the  highest  protection  for  all  bargain  making.  A  mer- 
chant may  stand  in  his  store  and  say:  "Now  I'll  have 
nothing  to  do  with  city  politics;  I  will  not  soil  my  hands 
with  the  slush;"  nevertheless  the  most  insignificant  trial 
in  the  police  court  will  affect  that  merchant  directly  or 
indirectly.  What  style  of  clerk  issues  the  writ;  what 
style  of  constable  makes  the  arrest;  what  style  of  attor- 
neys issue  the  plea;  what  style  of  judge  charges  the 
jury;  what  style  of  sheriff  executes  the  sentence — these 
are  questions  that  strike  your  counting-rooms  to  the 
centre.  You  may  not  throw  it  off.  In  the  city  of  New 
York  Christian  merchants  for  a  great  while  said:  "We'll 
have  nothing  to  do  with  the  management  of  public 
affairs,"  and  they  allowed  everything  to  go  at  loose  ends 
until  there  rolled  up  in  that  city  a  debt  of  nearly  120,000,- 
000  dollars.  The  municipal  government  became  a  hissing 
and  a  by-word  in  the  whole  earth,  and  then  the  Christian 
merchants  saw  their  foil}',  and  they  went  and  took  posses- 
sion of  the  ballot  boxes.  I  wish  all  commercial  men  to 
understand  that  they  are  not  independant  of  the  moral 
character  of  the  men  who  rule  over  them,  but  must  be 
thoroughly,  mightily  affected  by  them. 

So,  also,  of  the  educational  interests  of  a  city.  Do  you 
know  that  there  are  in  this  country  sixty -live  thousand 
common  schools,  and  that  there  are  over  seven  millions 
of  pupils,  and  that  the  majority  of  those  schools  and  the 
majority  of  those  pupils  are  in  our  cities?    Now,  this 


198 


RESPONSIBILITY  OF  CITY  RULERS. 


great  multitude  of  children  will  be  affected  by  the  intel- 
ligence or  ignorance,  the  virtue  or  the  vice,  of  Boards  of 
Education  and  Boards  of  Control.  There  are  cities — I 
am  glad  ours  is  not  one  of  them — but  there  are  cities 
where  educational  affairs  are  settled  in  the  low  caucus  in 
the  abandoned  parts  of  the  cities,  by  men  full  of  igno- 
rance and  rum.  It  ought  not  to  be  so;  but  in  many 
cities  it  is  so.  I  hear  the  tramp  of  the  coming  genera- 
tions. What  that  great  multitude  of  youth  shall  be  for 
this  world  and  the  next  will  be  affected  very  much  by 
the  character  of  your  public  schools.  You  had  better 
multiply  the  moral  and  religious  influences  about  the 
common  schools  rather  than  subtract  from  them.  Instead 
of  driving  the  Bible  out,  you  had  better  drive  the  Bible 
further  in.  May  God  defend  our  glorious  common  school 
system,  and  send  into  rout  and  confusion  all  its  sworn 
enemies. 

I  have  also  to  say  that  the  character  of  officials  in  a 
city  affects  the  domestic  circle.  In  a  city  where  grog- 
shops have  their  own  way,  and  gambling  hells  are  not 
interfered  with,  and  for  fear  of  losing  political  influence 
officials  close  their  eyes  to  festering  abominations — in  all 
those  cities,  the  home  interests  need  to  make  imploration. 
The  family  circles  of  the  city  must  inevitably  be  affected 
by  the  moral  character  or  the  immoral  character  of  those 
who  rule  over  them. 

I  will  go  further  and  say  that  the  religious  interests 
of  a  city  are  thus  affected.  The  church  to-day  has  to 
contend  with  evils  that  the  civil  law  ought  to  smite;  and 
while  I  would  not  have  the  civil  government  in  any  wise 
relax  its  energy  in  the  arrest  and  punishment  of  crime, 
I  would  have  a  thousand-fold  more  energy  put  forth  in 
the  drying  np  of  the  fountains  of  iniquity.  The  Church 
of  God  asks  no  pecuniary  aid  from  political  power;  but 


RESPONSIBILITY  OF  CITY  RULERS. 


199 


does  ask  that  in  addition  to  all  the  evils  we  must  necessa- 
rily contend  against  we  shall  not  have  to  fight  also  munic- 
ipal negligence.  O,  that  in  all  our  cities  Christian  people 
would  rise  up,  and  that  they  would  put  their  hand  on  the 
helm  before  piratical  demagogues  have  swamped  the  ship. 
Instead  of  giving  so  much  time  to  national  politics,  give 
some  of  your  attention  to  municipal  government. 

I  am  glad  to  know  that  recently  our  city  has  been 
cleansed  of  a  great  deal  of  political  vermin,  and  yet  it  is 
not  all  gone.  I  see  them  still  crawling  around  your  City 
Hall — the  disgust  of  all  good  men.  Somehow,  in  the  grind- 
ing of  the  political  machine,  they  come  on  the  top  of  the 
wheel.  They  electioneer  hard  at  the  polls,  and  they 
must  have  some  crumbs  of  office  or  they  will  change 
their  politics.  The  Democratic  party  would  have  us  be- 
lieve that  that  kind  of  men  belong  to  the  Republican 
party,  and  the  Republican  party  would  have  us  believe 
that  that  kind  of  men  belong  to  the  Democratic  party. 
They  are  both  wrong.  They  belong  to  both.  It  was 
well  illustrated  at  the  last  election  in  New  York  City, 
where  the  two  political  parties,  rousing  themselves  up  to 
the  fact  that  they  ought  to  have  some  great  reformer, 
some  large-hearted  reformer,  some  unimpeachable  re- 
former— the  two  political  parties  joined  together  and 
elected  to  the  Senatorial  chair — John  Morrissey!  O,  I 
demand  that  the  Christian  people  who  have  been  stand- 
ing aloof  from  public  affairs  come  back,  and  in  the  might 
of  God  try  to  save  our  cities.  If  things  are  or  have  been 
bad,  it  is  because  you  have  let  them  be  bad.  That  Chris- 
tian man  who  merely  goes  to  the  polls  and  casts  his  vote 
does  not  do  his  duty.  It  is  not  the  ballot  box  that  de- 
cides the  election,  it  is  the  political  caucus;  and  if  at  the 
primary  meetings  of  the  two  political  parties  unfit  and 
bad  men  are  nominated,  then  the  ballot  box  has  nothing 


200 


RESPONSIBILITY  OF  CITY  RULERS. 


to  do  save  to  take  its  choice  between  two  thieves!  In 
our  churches,  by  reformatory  organization,  in  every  way 
let  us  try  to  tone  up  the  moral  sentiment  in  these  cities. 
The  rulers  are  those  whom  the  people  choose,  and  depend 
upon  it  that  in  all  the  cities,  as  long  as  pure-hearted  men 
stand  aloof  from  politics  because  they  despise  hot  parti- 
sanship, just  so  long  in  many  of  our  cities  will  rum  make 
the  nominations,  and  rum  control  the  ballot  box,  and  rum 
inaugurate  the  officials. 

I  take  a  step  further  this  morning,  and  I  ask  that  all 
those  of  you  who  believe  in  the  omnipotence  of  prayer, 
day  by  day,  and  every  day,  present  your  city  officials 
before  God  for  a  blessing.  Pray  for  your  mayor.  The 
chief  magistrate  of  five  hundred  thousand  souls  is  in  a 
position  of  great  responsibility.  Many  of  the  kings,  and 
queens,  and  emperors  of  other  days  had  no  such  domin- 
ion. With  the  scratch  of  a  pen  he  may  advance  a  benefi- 
cent institution  or  baulk  an  elevated  steam  railway 
confiscation.  By  appointments  he  may  bless  or  curse 
every  hearth-stone  in  the  city.  If  in  the  Episcopal 
churches,  by  the  authority  of  the  Litany,  and  in  our  non- 
Episcopate  churches,  we  every  Sabbath  pray  for  the 
President  of  the  United  States,  why  not,  then,  be  just  as 
hearty  in  our  supplications  for  the  chief  magistrate  of 
our  cities,  for  their  guidance,  for  their  health,  for  their 
present  and  their  everlasting  morality? 

But  go  further,  and  pray  for  your  Common  Council. 
They  hold  in  their  hands  a  power  splendid  for  good  or 
terrible  for  evil.  Thej7  have  many  temptations.  In 
many  of  the  cities  whole  Boards  of  Common  Council- 
men  have  gone  down  in  the  maelstrom  of  political  cor- 
ruption. They  could  not  stand  the  power  of  the  bribe. 
Corruption  came  in  and  sat  beside  them,  and  sat  behind 
them,  and  sat  before  them.    They  recklessly  voted  away 


RESPONSIBILITY  OF  CITY  RULERS. 


201 


the  liard-earned  moneys  of  the  people.  They  were  bought 
out,  body,  mind,  and  soul,  so  that  at  the  end  of  their 
term  of  office  they  had  not  enough  of  moral  remains  left 
to  make  a  decent  funeral.  They  went  into  office  with 
the  huzza  of  the  multitude.  They  came  out  with  the 
anathema  of  all  decent  people.  There  is  not  one  man 
out  of  a  hundred  that  can  endure  the  temptations  of  the 
Common  Council  men  in  our  great  cities.  And  if  a  man 
in  that  position  have  the  courage  of  a  Cromwell,  and  the 
independence  of  an  Andrew  Jackson,  and  the  public 
spiritedness  of  a  John  Frederick  Oberlin,,and  the  piety 
of  an  Edward  Payson,  he  will  have  no  surplus  to  throw 
away.  Pray,  for  these  men.  Every  man  likes  to  be 
prayed  for.  Do  you  know  how  Dr.  Norman  McLeod 
became  the  Queen's  chaplain?  It  was  by  a  warm-hearted 
prayer  in  the  Scotch  kirk,  in  behalf  of  the  Royal  Family, 
one  Sabbath  when  the  Queen  and  her  son  were  present 
incognito. 

Yes,  go  further,  my  friends,  and  pray  for  your  police. 
Their  perils,  and  temptations,  best  known  to  themselves. 
They  hold  the  order  and  the  peace  of  your  city  in  their 
grasp.  But  for  their  intervention  you  would  not  be  safe 
for  an  hour.  They  must  lace  the  storm.  They  must 
rush  in  where  it  seems  to  them  almost  instant  death. 
They  must  put  the  hand  of  arrest  on  the  armed  maniac, 
and  corner  the  murderer.  They  must  refuse  large  re- 
wards for  withdrawing  complaints.  They  must  unravel 
intricate  plots,  and  trace  dark  labyrinths  of  crime,  and 
develop  suspicions  into  certainties.  They  must  be  cool 
while  others  are  frantic.  They  must  be  vigilant  while 
others  are  somnolent,  impersonating  the  very  villainy 
they  want  to  seize.  In  the  police  forces  of  our  great 
cities  are  to-day  men  of  as  thorough  character  as  that  of 
the  old  detective  of  New  York,  addressed  to  whom  there 


202 


RESPONSIBILITY  OF  CITY  RULERS. 


came  letters  from  London  asking  for  help  ten  years  after 
he  was  dead — letters  addressed  to  "Jacob  Hayes,  High 
Constable  of  New  York."  Your  police  need  your  appre- 
ciation, your  sympathy,  your  gratitude,  and,  above  all, 
your  prayers.  And  there  is  no  church  more  indebted 
to  that  class  of  men  than  this.  When,  last  year,  we  were 
arraigning  some  public  iniquities,  and  the  wrath  of  all 
the  powers  of  darkness  seemed  to  be  stirred  up,  the  police 
came  in — not  at  our  invitation,  but  voluntarily — and 
sixty  of  them  sat  in  every  service  in  this  church,  for  six 
weeks,  that  there  might  be  neither  interruption  nor 
bloodshed.  We  thank  them.  We  sympathize  with 
them.    We  pray  for  them. 

Yea,  I  want  you  to  go  further,  and  pray  every  day  for 
your  prison  inspectors  and  your  jail-keepers, — work 
awful  and  beneficent.  Rough  men,  cruel  men,  im- 
patient men,  are  not  fit  for  those  places.  They  have 
under  their  care  men  who  were  once  as  good  as  you,  but 
they  got  tripped  up.  Bad  company,  or  strong  drink,  or 
a  strange  conjunction  of  circumstances,  flung  them  head- 
long. Go  down  that  prison  corridor  and  ask  them  how 
they  got  in,  and  about  their  families,  and  what  their 
early  prospects  in  life  were,  and  you  will  find  that  they 
are  very  much  like  yourself,  except  in  this:  that  God 
kept  you  while  He  did  not  restrain  them.  Just  one  false 
step  made  the  difference  between  them  and  you.  They 
want  more  than  prison  bars,  more  than  jail  fare,  more 
than  handcuffs  and  hopplers,  more  than  a  vermin-cov- 
ered couch  to  reform  them.  PrayGod  day  by  day  that 
the  men  who  have  these  unfortunates  in  charge  may  be 
merciful,  Christianly  strategic,  and  the  means  of  reforma- 
tion and  rescue.  Some  years  ago  a  city  pastor  in  New 
York  was  called  to  the  city  prison  to  attend  a  funeral. 


RESPONSIBILITY  OF  CITY  RULERS. 


203 


A  young  woman  had  committed  a  crime,  and  was  incar- 
cerated, and  her  mother  came  to  visit  her,  and  died  on 
the  visit.  The  mother,  having  no  home,  was  buried  from 
her  daughter's  prison-cell.  After  the  service  was  over, 
the  imprisoned  daughter  came  up  to  the  minister  of 
Christ,  and  said:  "Wouldn't  you  like  to  see  my  poor 
mother?"  And  while  they  stood  at  the  coffin,  the  min- 
ister of  Christ  said  to  that  imprisoned  soul:  "Don't  you 
feel  to-day,  in  the  presence  of  your  mother's  dead  body, 
as  if  you  ought  to  make  a  vow  before  God  that  you  will 
do  differently  and  live  a  better  life?"  She  stood  for  a 
few  moments,  and  then  the  tears  rolled  down  her  cheeks, 
and  she  pulled  from  her  right  hand  the  worn-out  glove 
that  she  had  put  on  in  honor  of  the  obsequies,  and,  hav- 
ing bared  her  right  hand,  she  put  it  upon  the  chill  brow 
of  her  dead  mother,  and  said:  "By  the  help  of  God  I 
swear  I  will  do  differently.  God  help  me."  And  she 
kept  her  vow.  And  years  after,  when  she  was  told  of 
the  incident,  she  said:  "When  that  minister  of  the  Gos- 
pel said:  'God  bless  you  and  help  you  to  keep  the  vow 
that  you  have  made,'  I  cried  out,  and  I  said :  'You  bless 
me!  Do  you  bless  me?  Why,  that's  the  first  kind 
word  I've  heard  in  ten  years;'  and  it  thrilled  through 
my  soul,  and  it  was  the  means  of  my  reformation,  and 
ever  since,  by  the  grace  of  God,  I've  tried  to  live  a 
Christian  life."  O  yes,  there  are  many  amid  the  crimi- 
nal classes  that  may  be  reformed.  Pray  for  the  men 
who  have  these  unfortunates  in  charge;  and  who  knows 
but  that,  when  you  are  leaving  this  world,  you  may  hear 
the  voice  of  Christ  dropping  to  your  dying  pillow,  say- 
ing: "I  was  sick  and  in  prison,  and  you  visited  me.'r 
Yea,  I  take  the  suggestion  of  the  Apostle  Paul,  and  ask 
you  to  pray  for  all  who  are  in  authority,  that  we  may 
lead  quiet  and  peaceable  lives  in  godliness  and  honesty. 


204 


RESPONSIBILITY  OF  CITY  RCLKK9. 


My  word  this  morning  now  is  to  all  in  this  assembly 
and  to  those  whom  these  words  shall  come  who  hold  any 
public  position  of  trust  -in  our  midst.  You  are  God's 
representatives.  God  the  King,  and  Ruler,  and  Judge, 
sets  you  in  His  place.  O,  be  faithful  in  the  discharge  of 
all  your  duties,  so  that  when  Brooklyn  is  in  ashes,  and 
the  world  itself  is  a  red  scroll  of  flame,  you  may  be  in 
the  mercy  and  grace  of  Christ  rewarded  for  your  faith- 
fulness. It  was  that  feeling  which  gave  such  eminent 
qualifications  for  office  to  Neal  Dow,  Mayor  of  Portland, 
and  to  Judge  McLean,  of  Ohio,  and  to  Benjamin  F. 
Butler,  Attorney-General  of  New  York,  and  to  George 
Briggs,  Governor  of  Massachusetts,  and  to  Theodore 
Frelinghuysen,  Senator  of  the  United  States,  and  to 
"William  Wilberforce,  member  of  the  British  Parliament. 
You  may  make  the  rewards  of  eternity  the  emoluments 
of  your  office.  What  care  you  for  adverse  political  criti- 
cism if  you  have  God  on  your  side?  The  one,  or  the 
two,  or  the  three  years  of  your  public  trust  will  pass 
away,  and  all  the  years  of  your  earthly  service,  and  then 
the  tribunal  will  be  lifted,  before  which  you  and  I  must 
appear.  May  God  make  you  so  faithful  now  that  the 
last  scene  shall  be  to  you  exhilaration  and  rapture.  I 
wish  this  morning  to  exhort  all  good  people,  whether 
they  are  the  governors  or  the  governed,  to  make  one 
grand  effort  for  the  salvation,  the  purification,  the  re- 
demption of  Brooklyn.  Do  you  not  know  that  there  are 
multitudes  going  down  to  ruin,  temporal  and  eternal, 
dropping  quicker  than  words  drop  from  my  lips?  Grog- 
shops swallow  them  up.  Gambling  hells  devour  them. 
Houses  of  shame  are  damning  them.  O,  let  us  toil,  and 
pray,  and  preach,  and  vote  until  all  these  wrongs  are 
righted.  "What  we  do  we  must  do  quickly.  Soon  you 
will  not  sit  there,  and  I  will  not  stand  here.    With  our 


RESPONSIBILITY  OF  CITY  RULERS. 


205 


rulers,  and  on  the  same  platform,  we  must  at  last  come 
before  the  throne  of  God  to  answer  for  what  we  have 
done  for  the  -bettering  of  the  condition  of  the  five  hun- 
dred thousand  people  in  Brooklyn.  Alas!  if  on  that  day 
it  be  found  that  your  hand  has  been  idle  and  my  pulpit 
has  been  silent.  O,  ye  who  are  pure,  and  honest,  and 
Christian,  go  to  work  and  help  me  to  make  this  city  pure, 
and  honest,  and  Christian. 

Lest  it  may  have  been  thought  that  I  am  this  morning 
preaching  only  to  what  are  called  the  better  classes,  my 
final  word  is  to  some  dissolute  soul  that  has  strayed  here 
to-day.  Though  you  may  be  covered  with  all  crimes, 
though  you  may  be  smitten  with  all  leprosies,  though 
you  may  have  gone  through  the  whole  catalogue  of 
iniquity,  and  may  not  have  been  in  church  for  twenty 
years  before  to-day — before  you  leave  this  house  you 
may  have  your  nature  entirely  reconstructed,  and  upon 
your  brow,  hot  with  infamous  practices  and  besweated 
with  exhausting  indulgences,  God  will  place  the  Hashing 
coronet  of  a  Saviour's  forgiveness.  "O,  no!"  you  say, 
"if  you  knew  who  I  am  and  where  I  came  from  this 
morning,  you  wouldn't  say  that  to  me.  I  don't  believe 
the  Gospel  you  are  preaching  speaks  of  my  case."  Yes 
it  does,  my  brother.  And  then  when  you  tell  me  that, 
I  think  of  what  St.  Teresa  said  when  reduced  to  utter 
destitution,  having  only  two  pieces  of  money  left,  she 
jingled  the  two  pieces  of  money  in  her  hand  and  said: 
"St.  Teresa  and  two  pieces  of  money  are  nothing;  but  St. 
Teresa  and  two  pieces  of  money  and  God  are  all  things." 
And  I  tell  you  to-day  that  while  a  sin  and  a  sinner  are 
nothing,  a  sin  and  a  sinner  and  an  all-forgiving  and  all- 
compassionate  God  are  everything. 

Who  is  that  that  I  see  coming?  I  know  his  step.  I 
know  his  rags.    Who  is  it?    A  prodigal.    Come,  people 


206 


RESPONSIBILITY  OF  CITY  RULERS. 


of  God,  let  us  go  out  and  meet  him.  Get  the  best  robe 
you  can  find  in  all  this  house.  Let  the  angels  of  God 
fill  their  chalices  and  drink  to  his  eternal  rescue.  Come, 
people  of  God,  let  us  go  out  to  meet  him.  The  prodigal 
is  coming  home.  The  dead  is  alive  again,  and  the  lost 
is  found.  Hallelujah! 

"Pleased  with  the  news,  the  saints  below 
In  songs  their  tongues  employ; 
Beyond  the  skies  the  tidings  go, 
And  Heaven  is  filled  with  joy. 

"Nor  angels  can  their  joy  contain, 

But  kindle  with  new  fire ; 
The  sinner  lost  is  found,'  they  sing, 

And  strike  the  sounding  lyre." 


SAFEGUARDS  OF  YOUNG  MEN. 


207 


CHAPTER  XV. 

SAFEGUARDS  OF  YOUNG  MEN. 

"  Is  the  young  man  Absalom  safe  ?  " — II.  Sam.  xviii :  29. 

The  heart  of  David,  the  father,  was  wrapped  up  in  his 
boy  Absalom.  He  was  a  splendid  boy,  judged  by  the 
rules  of  worldly  criticism.  From  the  crown  of  his  head 
to  the  sole  of  his  foot  there  was  not  a  single  blemish. 
The  Bible  says  that  he  had  such  a  luxuriant  shock  of 
hair,  that  when  once  a  year  it  was  shorn,  what  was  cut 
off  weighed  over  three  pounds.  But,  notwithstanding 
all  his  brilliancy  of  appearance,  he  was  a  bad  boy,  and 
broke  his  father's  heart.  He  was  plotting  to  get  the 
throne  of  Israel.  He  had  marshalled  an  army  to  over- 
throw his  father's  government.  The  day  of  battle  had 
come.  The  conflict  was  begun.  David,  the  father,  sat 
between  the  gates  of  the  palace  waiting  for  the  tidings 
of  the  conflict.  Oh,  how  rapidly  his  heart  beat  with 
emotion.  Two  great  questions  were  to  be  decided:  the 
safety  of  his  boy,  and  the  continuance  of  the  throne  of 
Israel.  After  awhile,  a  servant,  standing  on  the  top  of 
the  house,  looks  off,  and  he  sees  some  one  running.  He 
is  coming  with  great  speed,  and  the  man  on  the  top  of 
the  house  announces  the  coming  of  the  messenger,  and 
the  father  watches  and  waits,  and  as  soon  as  the  messen- 
ger from  the  field  of  battle  comes  within  hailing  distance 
the  father  cries  out.  Is  it  a  question  in  regard  to  the 
establishment  of  his  throne?  Does  he  say:  "Have  the 
armies  of  Israel  been  victorious?  Am  I  to  continue  in  my 


203 


SAFEGUARDS  OF  YOUNG-  MEN. 


imperial  authority?  Have  I  overthrown  my  enemies?" 
Oh !  no.  There  is  one  question  that  springs  from  his  heart 
to  the  lip,  and  springs  from  the  lip  into  the  ear  of  the 
besweated  and  bedusted  messenger  flying  from  the  battle- 
field— the  question,  ''Is  the  young  man  Absalom  safe?" 
When  it  was  told  to  David,  the  King,  that,  though  his 
armies  had  been  victorious,  his  son  had  been  slain,  the 
father  turned  his  back  upon  the  congratulations  of  the 
nation,  and  went  up  the  stairs  of  his  palace,  his  heart 
breaking  as  he  went,  wringing  his  hands  sometimes,  and 
then  again  pressing  them  against  his  temples  as  though 
he  would  press  them  in,  crying:  "O  Absalom!  my  son! 
my  son!  Would  God  I  had  died  for  thee,  O  Absalom! 
my  son!  my  son!" 

My  friends,  the  question  which  David,  the  King,  asked 
in  regard  to  his  son  is  the  question  that  resounds  to-day 
in  the  hearts  of  hundreds  of  parents.  Yea,  there  are  a 
great  multitude  of  young  men  here  who  know  that  the 
question  of  the  text  is  appropriate  when  asked  in  regard 
to  them.  They  know  the  temptations  by  which  they  are 
surrounded ;  they  see  so  many  who  started  life  with  as 
good  resolutions  as  they  have  who  have  fallen  in  the 
path,  and  they  are  ready  to  hear  me  ask  the  question  of 
my  text:  "Is  the  young  man  Absalom  safe?"  The  fact 
is  that  this  life  is  full  of  peril.  He  who  undertakes  it 
without  the  grace  of  God  and  a  proper  understanding 
of  the  conflict  into  which  he  is  going  must  certainly  be 
defeated.  Just  look  off  upon  society  to-day.  Look  at 
the  shipwreck  of  men  for  whom  fair  things  were  prom- 
ised, and  who  started  life  with  every  advantage.  Look 
at  those  who  have  dropped  from  high  social  position, 
and  from  great  fortune,  disgraced  for  time,  disgraced 
for  eternity.  To  prove  that  this  life  is  an  awful  peril 
unless  a  man  has  the  grace  of  God  to  defend  him,  I  point 


SAFEGUARDS  OF  YOUNG  MEN.  209 

to  that  wreck  of  Friday  at  Ludlow  street  Jail,  showing 
on  what  a  desolate  coast  a  strong  craft  may  crash  and 
part.  Let  there  be  no  exhilaration  over  that  man's  fate. 
Instead  of  the  chuckle  of  satisfaction,  let  there  be  in 
every  Christian  soul  a  deep  badness.  The  fact  is,  that 
there  are  tens  of  thousands  of  men  in  this  country  who, 
under  the  same  pressure  of  temptation,  would  have 
fallen  as  low.  Instead  of  bragging  and  boasting  how 
you  have  maintained  your  integrity,  you  had  better  get 
down  on  your  knees  and  thank  God  that  His  Almighty 
grace  has  kept  you  from  the  same  moral  catastrophe. 
There  is  no  advice  more  appropriate  to  you  and  this 
whole  country  this  morning  than  the  advice  of  the 
Scripture,  which  says:  uLet  him  that  standeth.  take  heed 
lest  he  fall."  All  my  sympathies  are  for  the  afflicted 
family  of  that  dead  prisoner.  For  the  last  seven  years 
some  of  them  I  know  have  endured  an  inquisition  of 
torture.  May  the  God  of  all  comfort  help  them  in  this 
day  when  there  are  so  few  to  pray  for  them.  In  the 
presence  of  this  Christian  assemblage  ]  invoke  the  God 
of  all  compassion  to  have  mercy  upun  those  bereft  chil- 
dren. It  is  hard  to  see  our  friends  die,  even  when  they 
die  in  Christian  triumph  and  with  all  blissful  surround- 
ings; but  alas!  when  to  the  natural  anguish  is  added  the 
anguish  of  a  moral  and  a  lifetime  shipwreck.  Ah  I  my 
friends,  let  us  remember  that  that  man  made  full  expia- 
tion to  society  for  his  crimes  against  it.  Let  us  remem- 
ber that  by  pangs  of  body  that  no  doctor  could  arrest, 
and  by  horrors  of  soul  which  no  imagination  can  describe, 
he  fully  paid  the  price  of  his  iniquity.  Let  others  do  as 
they  may,  I  will  not  throw  one  nettle  or  one  thistle  on 
that  man's  grave.  But,  my  friends,  no  minister  of 
religion,  no  man  who  stands  as  I  do,  Sabbath  morning 
and  Sabbath  night  and  Friday  night,  before  a  great 
U 


210 


SAFEGUARDS  OF  YOUNG  MEN. 


multitude  of  young  men,  trying  to  help  them  and  edu- 
cate them  for  time  and  eternity,  can  allow  that  event  of 
the  past  week  to  go  by  without  drawing  from  it  a  lesson 
of  the  fact  that  life  is  an  awful  peril  without  the  religion 
of  Jesus  Christ,  and  that  "the  way  of  the  transgressor 
is  hard."  'No  stouter  nature  ever  started  out  on  this 
world  than  William  M.  Tweed.  He  conquered  poverty; 
he  conquered  lack  of  education ;  he  achieved  an  alder- 
manic  chair  in  the  metropolis  of  this  country;  he  gained 
a  position  in  the  Congress  at  Washington,  and  then  he 
took  his  position  on  a  financial  throne  of  power  at  Albany, 
his  frown  making  legislative  assemblages  tremble,  while 
he  divided  the  notoriety  with  James  Fisk,  Jr.,  of  being 
the  two  great  miscreants  of  the  nineteenth  century. 
Alas!  Alas!  Young  man,  look  at  the  contrast — in  ele- 
gant compartment  of  Wagner's  palace-car,  surrounded 
by  wines  and  cards  and  obsequious  attendants,  going  to 
the  Senatorial  place  in  Albany;  then  look  again  at  the 
plain  box  in  the  undertaker's  wagon  at  three  o'clock  of 
last  Friday  at  the  door  of  a  prison.  Behold  the  contrast 
— the  pictured  and  bouqueted  apartments  at  the  Delavan, 
liveried  servants  admitting  millionaires  and  Senators 
who  were  flattered  to  take  his  hand;  then  see  the  almost 
friendless  prisoner  on  a  plain  cot,  throwing  out  his  dying 
hand  to  clutch  that  of  Luke,  his  black  attendant.  Be- 
hold the  wedding  party  at  the  mansion,  the  air  bewitched 
with  crowns,  and  stars,  and  harps  of  tuberoses  and  jap- 
onicas;  among  the  wedding  presents,  forty  complete 
sets  of  silver;  fifteen  diamond  sets,  one  set  of  diamonds 
worth  $15,000;  the  wedding  dress  at  the  expense  of 
$4,000,  with  trimmings  that  cost  another  $1,000;  two 
baskets  of  silverware,  representing  icebergs,  to  contain 
the  ices,  while  Polar  bears  of  silver  lie  down  on  the 
handles  of  the  baskets;  the  banquet,  the  triumph  of 


SAFEGUARDS  OF  YOUNG  MEN. 


211 


Delmonico's  lifetime;  the  whole  scene  a  bewilderment 
of  costliness  and  magnificence.  And  then  behold  the 
low-ceiling  room,  looking  out  on  a  dingy  street,  where 
poor,  exhausted,  forsaken,  betrayed,  sick  William  M. 
Tweed  lies  a  dying.  From  how  high  up  to  how  low 
down!  There  were  many  common  people  in  !N"ew  York 
who  for  years  were  persuaded  by  what  they  saw  that  an 
honest  and  laborious  life  did  not  pay.  As  the  carriage 
swept  by  containing  the  jewelled  despoil er  of  public 
funds,  men  felt  like  throwing  their  burdens  down  and 
trying  some  other  way  of  getting  a  livelihood;  but  where 
is  the  clerk  on  $500  salary  a  year,  where  is  the  porter 
who  will  to-morrow  sweep  out  the  store,  where  is  the 
scavenger  of  the  street  who  would  take  Tweed's  years  of 
fraudulent  prosperity  if  he  must  also  take  Tweed's  suf- 
ferings, and  Tweed's  dishonor,  and  Tweed's  death?  All! 
there  never  was  such  an  illustration  for  the  young  men 
of  New  York  and  Brooklyn  of  the  fact  that  dishonesty 
wijl  not  pay.  Take  a  dishonest  dollar  and  bury  it  in 
the  centre  of  the  earth,  and  heap  all  the  rocks  of  the 
mountain  on  the  top  of  it;  then  cover  these  rocks  with 
all  the  diamonds  of  Golconda,and  all  the  silver  of  Nevada, 
and  all  the  gold  of  California  and  Australia,  put  on  the 
top  of  these  all  banking  and  moneyed  institutions,  and 
they  cannot  keep  down  that  one  dishonest  dollar.  That 
one  dishonest  dollar  in  the  centre  of  the  earth  will  begin 
to  heave  and  rock  and  upturn  itself  until  it  comes  to  the 
resurrection  of  damnation.  "As  a  partridge  sitteth  on 
eggs  and  hatcheth  them  not,  so  riches  got  by  fraud,  a 
man  shall  leave  them  in  the  midst  of  his  days,  and  at 
the  end  he  shall  be  a  fool."  You  tell  me  that  in  the  last 
days  the  man  of  whom  I  speak  read  his  Bible  three  times 
a  day.  I  cast  no  slur  on  such  a  thing  as  that.  It  was 
beautiful,  and  it  was  appropriate.    God  could  save  that 


212 


SAFEGUARDS  OF  YOUNG  MEN. 


man  as  easily  as  He  could  save  you  or  me.  Had  I  been 
called  to  do  so,  I  should  have  knelt  by  his  cot  in  the 
prison  and  prayed  for  his  soul  with  as  much  confidence 
as  I  would  kneel  by  your  bedside.  Oh!  the  Lord,  long- 
suffering,  merciful,  and  gracious;  height  above  all  height, 
depth  below  all  depth,  and  any  man  who  cries  for  mercy 
shall  get  it.  But  who  would  want  to  live  a  life  hostile 
to  the  best  interests  of  society,  even  though  in  his  last 
moments  he  could  make  his  peace  with  God  and  enter 
heaven?  So  I  stand  here  before  the  young  men,  and  I 
am  going  to  have  a  plain  talk  with  you,  and  I  am  going 
to  offer  you  some  safeguards.  I  shall  not  preach  to  you 
as  a  minister  preaches  to  a  formalistic  congregation.  I 
have  no  gown,  or  bands,  or  surplice;  but  I  take  you  by 
both  hands,  my  dear  brother,  and  from  what  I  know  of 
life,  and  from  what  I  know  of  God,  and  from  what  I 
know  of  the  promises  of  Divine  grace,  I  shall  solemnly 
yet  cheerfully  address  you.  God  gives  me  a  great  many 
young  men  here  Sabbath  by  Sabbath,  and  it  is  my  great 
ambition  not  only  to  reach  heaven  myself,  but  to  take 
them  all  along  with  me.  And  I  will,  I  will,  God  help- 
ing me. 

The  first  safeguard  of  which  I  want  to  speak  is  a  love 
of  home.  There  are  those  who  have  no  idea  of  the 
pleasures  that  concentrate  around  that  word  "home." 
Perhaps  your  early  abode  was  shadowed  with  vice  01 
poverty.  Harsh  words,  and  petulance,  and  scowling 
may  have  destroyed  all  the  sanctity  of  that  spot.  Love, 
kindness,  and  self-sacrifice,  which  have  built  their  altars 
in  so  many  abodes,  were  strangers  in  your  father's  house. 
God  pity  you,  young  man;  you  never  had  a  home.  But 
a  multitude  in  this  audience  can  look  back  to  a  spot  that 
they  can  never  forget.  It  may  have  been  a  lowly  roof, 
but  you  cannot  think  of  it  this  morning  without  a  dash 


SAFEGUARDS  OF  YOUNG  MEN. 


213 


of  emotion.  You  have  seen  nothing  on  earth  that  so 
stirs  your  soul.  A  stranger  passing  along  that  place 
might  see  nothing  remarkable  about  it;  but  oh!  how 
much  it  means  to  you.  Fresco  on  palace  wall  does  not 
mean  so  much  to  you  as  those  rough-hewn  rafters.  Parks 
and  bowers  and  trees  on  fashionable  watering-place  or 
country-seat  do  not  mean  so  much  to  yon  as  that  brook 
that  ran  in  front  of  the  plain  farm-house,  and  singing 
under  the  weeping  willows.  The  barred  gateway  swung 
open  by  porter  in  full  dress,  does  not  mean  as  much  to 
you  as  that  swing-gate,  your  sister  on  one  side  of  it,  and 
you  on  the  other;  she  gone  fifteen  years  ago  into  glory. 
That  scene  coming  back  to  you  to-day,  as  you  swept 
backward  and  forward  on  the  gate,  singing  the  songs  of 
your  childhood.  But  there  are  those  here  who  have 
their  second  dwelling-place.  It  is  your  adopted  home. 
That  also  is  sacred  forever.  There  you  established  the 
first  family  altar.  There  your  children  were  born.  In 
that  room  flapped  the  wing  of  the  death  angel.  Under 
that  roof,  when  your  work  is  done,  you  expect  to  lie 
down  and  die.  There  is  only  one  word  in  all  the  lan- 
guage that  can  convey  your  idea  of  that  place,  and  that 
word  is  "  home."  Now,  let  me  say  that  I  never  knew 
a  man  who  was  faithful  to  his  early  and  adopted  home 
who  was  given  over  at  the  same  time  to  any  gross  form 
of  wickedness.  If  you  find  more  enjoyment  in  the  club- 
room,  in  the  literary  society,  in  the  art-saloon,  than  you 
do  in  these  unpretending  home  pleasures,  you  are  on 
the  road  to  ruin.  Though  you  may  be  cut  off  fror*1  vour 
early  associates,  and  though  you  may  be  .  epa^  ,f*^  from 
all  your  kindred,  young  man,  is  there  '.,ot  a  .  •  •  ,rji  some- 
where tliat* yon  can  call  your  own?  Though  it  be  the 
fourth  story  of  a  third-class  boardin.'.  :  ^use,  into  that 
room  gather  books,  and  pictures,  aua  a  harp.  Hang 


214 


SAFEGUAKDS  OF  YOUNG  MEN. 


your  mother's  portrait  over  the  mantle.  Bid  unholy 
mirth  stand  back  from  that  threshhold.  Consecrate  some 
spot  in  that  room  with  the  knee  of  prayer.  J3y  the 
memory  of  other  days,  a  father's  counsel,  a  mother's 
love,  and  a  sister's  confidence,  call  it  home. 

Another  safeguard  for  these  young  men  is  industrious 
habit.  There  are  a  great  many  people  trying  to  make 
their  way  through  the  world  with  their  wits  instead  of 
by  honest  toil.  There  is  a  young  man  who  comes  from 
the  country  to  the  city.  He  fails  twice  before  he  is  as 
old  as  his  father  wTas  when  he  first  saw  the  spires  of  the 
great  town.  At  twenty-one  years  of  age  he  knows  Wall 
Street  from  Trinity  Church  to  East  river  docks.  He  is 
seated  in  his  room  at  a  rent  of  $2,000  a  year,  waiting  for 
the  banks  to  declare  their  dividends  and  the  stocks  to 
run  up.  After  awhile  he  gets  impatient.  He  tries  to 
improve  his  penmanship  by  making  copy-plates  of  other 
merchants'  signatures!  Never  mind — all  is  right  in 
business.  After  awhile  he  has  his  estate.  Now  is  the 
time  for  him  to  retire  to  the  country,  amid  the  flocks 
and  the  herds,  to  culture  the  domestic  virtues.  Now 
the  young  men  who  were  his  schoolmates  in  boyhood 
will  come,  and  with  their  ox-teams  draw  him  logs,  and 
with  their  hard  hands  will  help  to  heave  up  the  castle. 
That  is  no  fancy  sketch;  it  is  every-day  life.  I  should 
not  wonder  if  there  were  a  rotten  beam  in  that  palace. 
I  should  not  wonder  if  God  should  smite  him  with  dire 
sicknesses,  and  pour  into  his  cup  a  bitter  draught  that 
will  thrill  him  with  unbearable  agony.  I  should  not 
wonder  if  that  man's  children  grew  up  to  be  to  him  a 
disgrace,  and  to  make  his  life  a  shame.  I  should  not 
wonder  if  that  man  died  a  dishonorable  death,  and  were 
tumbled  into  a  dishonorable  grave,  and  then  went  into 
the  gnashing  of  teeth.    The  way  of  the  ungodly  shall 


SAFEGUARDS  OF   YOUNG  MEN. 


215 


perish.    Oh!  young  man,  you  must  have  industry  of 
head,  or  hand,  or  foot,  or  perish.    Do  not  have  the  idea 
that  you  can  get  along  in  the  world  by  genius.  The 
curse  of  this  country  to-day  is  genius — men  with  large 
self-conceit  and  nothing  else.    The  man  who  proposes  to 
make  his  living  by  his  wits  probably  has  not  any.  I 
should  rather  be  an  ox,  plain,  and  plodding  and  useful, 
than  to  be  an  eagle,  high-flying  and  good-for-nothing  but 
to  pick  out  the  eyes  of  carcasses.    Even  in  the  Garden  of 
Eden,  it  was  not  safe  for  Adam  to  be  idle,  so  God  made 
him  an  horticulturist;  and  if  the  married  pair  had  kept 
busy  dressing  the  vines,  they  would  not  have  been  saun- 
tering under  the  trees,  hankering  after  fruit  that  ruined 
them  and  their  posterity!    Proof  positive  of  the  fact  that 
when  people  do  not  attend  to  their  business  they  get  into 
mischief.    "Go  to  the  ant,  thou  sluggard;  consider  her 
ways  and  be  wise;  which,  having  no  overseer  or  guide, 
provideth  her  food  in  the  summer  and  gathereth  her 
meat  in  the  harvest."    Satan  is  a  roaring  lion,  and  you 
can  never  destroy  him  by  gun  or  pistol  or  sword.  The 
weapons  with  which  you  are  to  beat  him  back  are  ham- 
mer, and  adze,  and  saw,  and  pickaxe,  and  yardstick,  and 
the  weapon  of  honest  toil.    Work,  work,  or  die. 

Another  safeguard  that  I  want  to  present  to  these 
young  men  is  a  high  ideal  of  life.  Sometimes  soldiers 
going  into  battle  shoot  into  the  ground  instead  of  into 
the  hearts  of  their  enemies.  They  are  apt  to  take  aim 
too  low,  and  it  is  very  often  that  the  captain,  going  into 
conflict  with  his  men,  will  cry  out,  uKow,  men,  aim 
high!"  The  fact  is  that  in  life  a  great  many  men  take 
no  aim  at  all.  The  artist  plans  out  his  entire  thought 
before  he  puts  it  upon  canvas,  before  he  takes  up  the 
crayon  or  the  chisel.  An  architect  thinks  out  the 
entire  building  before  the  workmen  begin.  Although 


216 


SAFEGUARDS  OF  YOUNG  MEN. 


everything  may  seem  to  be  unorganized,  that  arch- 
itect has  in  his  mind  every  Corinthian  column, 
every  Gothic  arch,  every  Byzantine  capital.  A  poet 
thinks  out  the  entire  plot  of  his  poem  before  he 
begins  to  chime  the  cantos  of  tinkling  rhythms.  And 
yet  there  are  a  great  many  men  who  start  the  important 
structure  of  human  life  without  knowing  whether  it  is 
going  to  be  a  rude  Tartar's  hut  or  a  St.  Mark's  Cathedral, 
and  begin  to  write  out  the  intricate  poem  of  their  life 
without  knowing  whether  it  is  to  be  a  Homer's  "Odyssey" 
or  a  rhymester's  botch.  Out  of  one  thousand,  nine  hun- 
dred and  ninety-nine  have  no  life-plot.  Booted  and 
spurred  and  caparisoned,  they  hasten  along,  and  I  run 
out  and  I  say:  "Hallo,  man!  Whither  away?"  "No- 
where!" they  say.  Oh!  young  man,  make  every  day's 
duty  a  filling  up  of  the  great  life-plot.  Alas !  that  there 
should  be  on  this  sea  of  life  so  many  ships  that  seem 
bound  for  no  port.  They  are  swept  every  whither  by 
wind  and  wave,  up  by  the  mountains  and  down  by  the 
valleys.  They  sail  with  no  chart.  They  gaze  on  no 
star.  They  long  for  no  harbor.  Oh!  young  man,  have 
a  high  ideal  and  press  to  it,  and  it  will  be  a  mighty  safe- 
guard. There  never  were  grander  opportunities  opening 
before  young  men  than  are  opening  now.  Young  men 
of  the  strong  arm,  and  of  the  stout  heart,  and  of  the 
bounding  step,  I  marshal  you  to-day  for  a  great  achieve- 
ment. 

Another  safeguard  is  a  respect  for  the  Sabbath.  Tell 
me  how  a  young  man  spends  his  Sabbath,  and  I  will  tell 
you  what  are  his  prospects  in  business,  and  I  will  tell 
you  what  are  his  prospects  for  the  eternal  world.  God  has 
thrust  into  our  busy  life  a  sacred  day  when  we  are  to 
look  after  our  souls.  Is  it  exorbitant,  after  giving  six 
days  to  the  feeding  and  the  clothing  of  these  perishable 


SAFEGUAKDS  OF  YOUNG  MEN. 


217 


bodies,  that  God  should  demand  one  day  for  the  feeding 
and  the  clothing  of  the  immortal  soul?  Our  bodies  are 
seven-day  clocks,  and  they  need  to  be  wound  up,  and  if 
they  are  not  wound  up  they  run  down  into  the  grave. 
~No  man  can  continuously  break  the  Sabbath  and  keep 
his  physical  and  mental  health.  Ask  those  aged  men, 
and  they  will  tell  you  they  never  knew  men  who  continu- 
ously broke  the  Sabbath  who  did  not  fail  either  in  mind, 
body  or  moral  principle.  A  manufacturer  gave  this  as 
his  experience.  He  said:  "I  owned  a  factory  on  the 
Lehigh.  Everything  prospered.  I  kept  the  Sabbath, 
and  everything  went  on  well.  But  one  Sabbath  morning 
I  bethought  myself  of  a  new  shuttle,  and  I  thought  I 
would  invent  that  shuttle  before  sunset;  and  I  refused 
all  food  and  drink  until  I  had  completed  that  shuttle. 
By  sundown  I  had  completed  it.  The  next  day,  Monday, 
I  showed  to  my  workmen  and  friends  this  new  shuttle. 
They  all  congratulated  me  on  my  great  success.  I  put 
that  shuttle  into  play.  I  enlarged  my  business;  but,  sir, 
that  Sunday's  work  cost  me  $30,000.  From  that  day 
everything  went  wrong.  I  failed  in  business,  and  I  lost 
my  mill."  Oh,  my  friends,  keep  the  Lord's  day.  You 
may  think  it  old-fogy  advice,  but  I  give  it  to  you  now: 
"Remember  the  Sabbath  day  and  keep  it  holy.  Six 
days  shalt  thou  labor  and  do  all  thy  work;  but  the  sev- 
enth is  the  Sabbath  of  the  Lord  thy  God;  in  it  thou 
shalt  not  do  any  work."  A  man-  said  that  he  would 
prove  that  all  this  was  a  fallacy,  and  so  he  said:  "I  shall 
raise  a  Sunday  crop."  And  he  ploughed  the  field  on  the 
Sabbath,  and  then  he  put  in  the  seed  on  the  Sabbath 
and  he  cultured  the  ground  on  the  Sabbath.  When  the 
harvest  was  ripe  he  reaped  it  on  the  Sabbath,  and  he  car- 
ried it  into  the  mow  on  the  Sabbath,  and  then  he  stood 
out  defiant  to  his  Christian  neighbors  and  said:  "There, 


218 


SAFEGUAKDS  OF  YOUNG  MEN. 


that  is  my  Sunday  crop,  and  it  is  all  garnered."  After 
awhile  a  storm  came  up,  and  a  great  darkness,  and  the 
lightnings  of  heaven  struck  the  barn,  and  away  went  his 
Sunday  crop! 

There  is  one  safeguard  that  I  want  to  present.  I  have 
saved  it  until  the  last  because  I  want  it  to  be  the  more 
emphatic.  The  great  safeguard  for  every  young  man  is  the 
Christian  religion.  Nothing  can  take  the  place  of  it.  You 
may  have  gracefulness  enough  to  put  to  the  blush  Lord 
Chesterfield,  you  may  have  foreign  languages  dropping 
from  your  tongue,  you  may  discuss  laws  and  literature, 
you  may  have  a  pen  of  unequaled  polish  and  power,  you 
may  have  so  much  business  tact  that  you  can  get  the 
largest  salary  in  a  banking  house,  you  may  be  as  sharp 
as  Herod  and  as  strong  as  Samson,  and  with  as  long 
locks  as  those  which  hung  Absalom,  and  yet  you  have 
no  safety  against  temptation.  Some  of  you  look  forward 
to  life  with  great  despondency.  I  know  it.  I  see  it 
in  your  faces  from  time  to  time.  You  say:  "All  the 
occupations  and  professions  are  full,  and  there's  no 
chance  for  me."  Oh!  young  man,  cheer  up,  I  will  tell 
you  how  you  can  make  your  fortune.  Seek  first  the 
kingdom  of  God  and  His  righteousness,  and  all  other 
things  will  be  added.  I  know  you  do  not  want  to  be 
mean  in  this  matter.  You  will  not  empty  the  brimming 
cup  of  life,  and  then  pour  the  dregs  on  God's  altar.  To 
a  generous  Saviour  you  will  not  act  like  that;  you  have 
not  the  heart  to  act  like  that.  That  is  not  manly.  That 
is  not  honorable.  That  is  not  brave.  Your  great  want 
is  a  new  heart,  and  in  the  name  of  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ 
I  tell  you  so  to-day,  and  the  blessed  Spirit  presses 
through  the  solemnities  of  this  hour  to  put  the  cup  of 
life  to  your  thirsty  lips.  Oh!  thrust  it  not  back.  Mercy 
presents  it- -bleeding  mercy,  long-suffering  Mercy.  Pe- 


SAFEGUARDS  OF  YOUNG  MEN. 


219 


spise  till  other  friendships,  prove  recreant  to  all  other 
bargains,  but  despise  God's  love  for  your  dying  soul — do 
not  do  that.  There  comes  a  crisis  in  a  man's  life,  and  the 
trouble  is  he  does  not  know  it  is  the  crisis.  I  got  a  letter 
this  week  I  thought  to  have  brought  it  with  me  to 
church  and  read  you  a  portion  of  it — in  which  a  man 
says  to  me: 

"I  start  out  now  to  preach  the  gospel  of  righteousness 
and  temperance  to  the  people.  Do  you  remember  me? 
I  am  the  man  who  appeared  at  the  close  of  the  service 
when  you  were  worshipping  in  the  chapel  after  you 
came  from  Philadelphia.  Do  you  remember  at  the  close 
of  the  service  a  man  coining  up  to  you  all  a  tremble  with 
conviction,  and  crying  out  for  mercy,  and  telling  you  he 
had  a  very  bad  business,  and  he  thought  he  would  change 
it?  That  was  the  turning  point  in  my  history.  I  gave 
up  my  bad  business.  I  gave  my  heart  to  God,  and  the 
desire  to  serve  Him  has  grown  upon  me  all  these  years, 
until  now  woe  is  unto  me  if  I  preach  not  the  Gospel." 

That  Sunday  night,  in  the  chapel,  now  the  Lay  College 
was  the  turning  point  in  that  young  man's  history.  This 
very  Sabbath  hour  will  be  the  turning  point  in  the  his- 
tory of  a  hundred  young  men  in  this  house.  God  help 
us.  I  once  stood  on  an  anniversary  platform  with 
a  clergyman  who  told  this  marvelous  story.  He  said: 

"Thirty  years  ago  two  young  men  started  out  to  attend 
Park  Theater,  New  York,  to  see  a  play  which  made  religion 
ridiculous  and  hypocritical.  They  had  been  brought  up 
in  Christian  families.  They  started  for  the  theater  to 
see  that  vile  play,  and  their  early  convictions  came  back 
upon  them.  They  felt  it  was  not  right  to  go,  but  still 
they  went.  They  came  to  the  door  of  the  theatre.  One 
of  the  young  men  stopped  and  started  for  home,  but  re- 
turned and  came  up  to  the  door,  but  had  not  the  courage 


220  SAFEGUARDS  OF  YOUNG  MEN. 

to  go  in.  He  again  started  for  home,  and  went  home. 
The  other  young  man  went  in.  He  went  from  one  degree 
of  temptation  to  another.  Caught  in  the  whirl  of  frivol- 
ity and  sin,  he  sank  lower  and  lower.  He  lost  his  busi- 
ness position.  He  lost  his  morals.  He  lost  his  soul.  He 
died  a  dreadful  death,  not  one  star  of  mercy  shining  on 
it.  I  stand  before  you  to-day,"  said  that  minister, 
"to  thank  God  that  for  twenty  years  I  have  been  per- 
mitted to  preach  the  Gospel.  I  am  the  other  young 
man." 

Oh!  you  see  that  was  the  turning  point — the  one  went 
back,  the  other  went  on.  That  great  roaring  world  of 
New  York  life  will  soon  break  in  upon  you,  young  men. 
Will  the  wild  wave  dash  out  the  impressions  of  this  day 
as  an  ocean  billow  dashes  letters  out  of  the  sand  on  the 
beach?  You  need  something  better  than  this  world  can 
give  you.  I  beat  on  your  heart  and  it  sounds  hollow. 
You  want  something  great  and  grand  and  glorious  to  fill 
it,  and  here  is  the  religion  that  can  do  it  God  save  you! 


THE  VOICES  OE  THE  STREET. 


THE  VOICES  OF  THE  STREET. 


221 


CHAPTER  XYL 

THE  VOICES  OF  THE  STREET. 

Wisdom  crieth  without,  she  uttereth  her  voice  in  the  streets. — 
Prov.  i:  20 

We  are  all  ready  to  listen  to  the  voices  of  nature — the 
voices  of  the  mountain,  the  voices  of  the  sea,  the  voices 
of  the  storm,  the  voices  of  the  star.  As  in  some  of  the 
cathedrals  in  Europe,  there  is  an  organ  at  either  end  of 
the  building,  and  the  one  instrument  responds  musically 
to  the  other,  so  in  the  great  cathedral  of  nature,  day 
responds  to  day,  and  night  to  night,  and  flower  to  flower, 
and  star  to  star,  in  the  great  harmonies  of  the  universe. 
The  spring  time  is  an  evangelist  in  blossoms  preaching 
of  God's  love;  and  the  winter  is  a  prophet — white 
bearded — denouncing  woe  against  our  sins.  We  are  all 
ready  to  listen  to  the  voices  of  nature;  but  how  few  of 
us  learn  anything  from  the  voices  of  the  noisy  and  dusty 
street.  You  go  to  your  mechanism,  and  to  your  work, 
and  to  your  merchandise,  and  you  come  back  again — and 
often  with  how  different  a  heart  you  pass  through  the 
streets.  Are  there  no  things  for  us  to  learn  from 
these  pavements  over  which  we  pass?  Are  there  no 
tufts  of  truth  growing  up  between  these  cobblestones, 
beaten  with  the  feet  of  toil,  and  pain,  and  pleasure,  the 
slow  tread  of  old  age,  and  the  quick  step  of  childhood? 
Aye,  there  are  great  harvests  to  be  reaped;  and  this 
morning  I  thrust  in  the  sickle  because  the  harvest  is  ripe. 
"Wisdom  crieth  without,  she  uttereth  her  voice  in  the 
streets." 


222 


THE   VOICES  OF  THE  STREET. 


In  the  first  place,  the  street  impresses  me  with  the 
fact  that  this  life  is  a  scene  of  toil  and  struggle.  By 
ten  o'clock  every  day  the  city  is  jarring  with  wheels,  and 
shuffling  with  feet,  and  humming  with  voices,  and  cov- 
ered with  the  breath  of  smoke-stacks,  and  arush  with 
traffickers.  Once  in  awhile  you  find  a  man  going  along 
with  folded  arms  and  with  leisure  step,  as  though  he  had 
nothing  to  do;  but  for  the  most  part,  as  you  find  men 
going  down  these  streets  on  the  way  to  business,  there  is 
anxiety  in  their  faces,  as  though  they  had  some  errand 
which  must  be  executed  at  the  first  possible  moment. 
You  are  jostled  by  those  who  have  bargains  to  make  and 
notes  to  sell.  Up  this  ladder  with  a  hod  of  bricks,  out 
of  this  bank  with  a  roll  of  bills,  on  this  dray  with  a  load 
of  goods,  digging  a  cellar,  or  shingling  a  roof,  or  shoeing 
a  horse,  or  building  a  wall,  or  mending  a  watch,  or  bind- 
ing a  book.  Industry,  with  her  thousand  arms  and 
thousand  eyes,  and  thousand  feet,  goes  on  singing  her 
song  of  work!  work!  work!  while  the  mills  drum  it,  and 
the  steam-whistles  fife  it.  All  this  is  not  because  men 
love  toil.  Some  one  remarked:  "Every  man  is  as  lazy 
as  he  can  afford  to  be."  But  it  is  because  necessity  with 
stern  brow  and  with  uplifted  whip,  stands  over  you 
ready  whenever  you  relax  your  toil  to  make  your  should- 
ers sting  with  the  lash.  Can  it  be  that  passing  up  and 
down  these  streets  on  your  way  to  work  and  business 
that  you  do  not  learn  anything  of  the  world's  toil,  and 
anxiety,  and  struggle?  Oh!  how  many  drooping  hearts, 
how  many  eyes  on  the  watch,  how  many  miles  traveled, 
how  many  burdens  carried,  how  many  losses  suffered, 
how  many  battles  fought,  how  many  victories  gained, 
how  many  defeats  suffered,  how  many  exasperations  en- 
dured— what  losses,  what  hunger,  what  wretchedness, 
what  pallor,  what  disease,  what  agony,  what  despair! 


THE  VOICES  OF  THE  STREET.  223 

Sometimes  I  have  stopped  at  the  corner  of  the  street  as 
the  multitudes  went  hither  and  yon,  and  it  has  seemed 
to  be  a  great  pantomiue,  and  as  I  looked  upon  it  my 
heart  broke.  This  great  tide  of  human  life  that  goes 
down  the  street  is  a  rapid, tossed,  and  turned  aside,  and 
dashed  ahead,  and  driven  back — beautiful  in  its  confu- 
sion, and  confused  in  its  beauty.  In  the  carpeted  aisles 
of  the  forest,  in  the  woods  from  which  the  eternal  shadow 
is  never  lilted,  on  the  shore  of  the  sea  over  whose  iron 
coast  tosses  the  tangled  foam  sprinkling  the  cracked 
cliffs  with  a  baptism  of  whirlwind  and  tempest,  is  the 
best  place  to  study  God;  but  in  the  rushing,  swarming 
raving  street  is  the  best  place  to  study  man.  Going  down 
to  your  place  of  business  and  coming  home  again,  I 
charge  you  look  about — see  these  signs  of  poverty,  of 
wretchedness,  of  hunger,  of  sin,  of  bereavement — and 
as  you  go  through  the  streets,  and  come  back  through 
the  streets,  gather  up  in  the  arms  of  your  prayer  all  the 
sorrow,  all  the  losses,  all  the  sufferings,  all  the  bereave- 
ments of  those  whom  you  pass,  and  present  them  in 
prayer  before  an  all -sympathetic  God.  In  the  great  day 
of  eternity  there  will  be  thousands  of  persons  with  whom 
you  in  this  world  never  exchanged  one  word,  will  rise 
up  and  call  you  blessed;  and  there  will  be  a  thousand 
fingers  pointed  at  you  in  heaven,  saying:  "That  is  the 
man,  that  is  the  woman,  who  helped  me  when  I  was  hun- 
gry, and  sick,  and  wandering,  and  lost,  and  heart-broken. 
That  is  the  man,  that  is  the  woman,"  and  the  blessing 
will  come  down  upon  you  as  Christ  shall  say:  "I  was 
hungry  and  ye  fed  me,  I  was  naked  and  ye  clothed  me, 
I  was  sick  and  in  prison  and  ye  visited  me;  inasmuch 
as  ye  did  it  to  these  poor  waifs  of  the  streets,  ye  did  it 
to  Me." 

Again,  the  street  impresses  me  with  the  fact  that  all 


224 


THE  VOICES  OF  THE  STREET. 


classes  and  conditions  of  society  must  commingle.  We 
sometimes  culture  a  wicked  exclusiveness.  Intellect 
despises  ignorance.  Refinement  will  have  nothing  to  do 
with  boorishness.  Gloves  hate  the  sunburned  hand,  and 
the  high  forehead  despises  the  flat  head;  and  the  trim 
hedgerow  will  have  nothing  to  do  with  the  wild  copse- 
wood,  and  the  Athens  hates  Nazareth.  This  ought  not 
so  to  be.  The  astronomer  must  come  down  from  his 
starry  revelry  and  help  us  in  our  navigation.  The  sur- 
geon must  come  away  from  his  study  of  the  human 
organism  and  set  our  broken  bones.  The  chemist  must 
come  away  from  his  laboratory,  where  he  has  been  study- 
ing analysis  and  synthesis,  and  help  us  to  understand 
the  nature  of  the  soils.  I  bless  God  that  all  classes  of 
people  are  compelled  to  meet  on  the  street.  The  glitter- 
ing coach-wheel  clashes  against  the  scavenger's  cart. 
Fine  robes  run  against  the  pedlar's  pack.  Robust  health 
meets  wan  sickness.  Honesty  confronts  fraud.  Every 
class  of  people  meets  every  other  class.  Impudence  and 
modesty,  pride  and  humility,  purity  and  beastliness, 
frankness  and  hypocrisy,  meeting  on  the  same  block,  in 
the  same  street,  in  the  same  city.  Oh!  that  is  what 
Solomon  meant  when  he  said:  "The  rich  and  the  poor 
meet  together;  the  Lord  is  the  Maker  of  them  all."  I 
like  this  democratic  principle  of  the  Gospel  of  Jesus 
Christ  which  recognizes  the  fact  that  we  stand  before 
God  on  one  and  the  same  platform.  Do  not  take  on  any 
airs;  whatever  position  you  have  gained  in  society,  you 
are  nothing  but  a  man,  born  of  the  same  parent,  regen- 
erated by  the  same  Spirit,  cleansed  in  the  same  blood,  to 
lie  down  in  the  same  dust,  to  get  up  in  the  same  resur- 
rection. It  is  high  time  that  we  all  acknowledged  not 
only  the  Fatherhood  of  God,  but  the  brotherhood  of  man. 
Again,  the  street  impresses  me  with  the  fact  that  it  is 


THE  VOICES  OF  THE  STliEET. 


225 


a  very  hard  thing  for  a  man  to  keep  his  heart  right  and 
to  get  to  heaven.  Infinite  temptations  spring  upon  us 
from  these  places  of  public  concourse.  Amid  so  much 
affluence  how  much  temptation  to  covetousness,  and  to 
be  discontented  with  our  humble  lot.  Amid  so  many 
opportunities  for  over-reaching,  what  temptation  to  ex 
tortion.  Amid  so  much  display,  what  temptation  to 
vanity.  Amid  so  many  saloons  of  strong  drink,  what 
allurement  to  dissipation.  In  the  maelstroms  and  hell 
gates  of  the  street,  how  many  make  quick  and  eternal 
shipwreck.  If  a  man-of-war  comes  back  from  a  battle, 
and  is  towed  into  the  navy-yard,  we  go  down  to  look  at 
the  splintered  spars  and  count  the  bullet-holes,  and  look 
with  patriotic  admiration  on  the  flag  that  floated  in  vic- 
tory from  the  masthead.  But  that  man  is  more  of  a 
curiosity  who  has  gone  through  thirty  years  of  the  sharp- 
shooting  of  business  life,  and  yet  sails  on,  victor  over  the 
temptations  of  the  street.  Oh!  how  many  have  gone 
down  under  the  pressure,  leaviag  not  so  much  as  the 
patch  of  canvas  to  tell  where  they  perished.  They  never 
had  any  peace.  Their  dishonesties  kept  tolling  in  their 
ears.  If  I  had  an  axe,  and  could  split  open  the  beams 
of  that  fine  house,  perhaps  I  would  find  in  the  very 
heart  of  it  a  skeleton.  In  his  very  best  wine  there  is  a 
smack  of  poor  man's  sweat.  Oh !  is  it  strange  that  when 
a  man  has  devoured  widows'  houses,  he  is  disturbed  with 
indigestion?  All  the  forces  of  nature  are  against  him. 
The  floods  are  ready  to  drown  him,  and  the  earthquake 
to  swallow  him,  and  the  fires  to  consume  him,  and  the 
lightnings  to  smite  him.  Aye,  all  the  armies  of  God 
are  on  the  street,  and  in  the  da  when  the  crowns  of 
heaven  are  distributed,  some  of  the  brightest  of  them 
will  be  given  to  those  men  who  were  faithful  to  God  and 
faithful  to  the  souls  of  others  amid  the  marts  of  busi- 
15 


226 


THE  VOICES  OF  THE  STREET. 


ness,  proving  themselves  the  heroes  of  the  street.  Mighty 
were  their  temptations,  mighty  was  their  deliverance, 
and  mighty  shall  he  their  triumph. 

Again,  the  street  impresses  me  with  the  fact  that  life 
is  full  of  pretension  and  sham.  What  subterfuge,  what 
double  dealing,  what  two-facedness.  Do  all  people  who 
wish  you  good  morning  really  hope  for  you  a  happy  day? 
Do  all  the  people  who  shake  hands  love  each  other? 
Are  all  those  anxious  about  your  health  who  inquire  con. 
cerning  it?  Do  all  want  to  see  you  who  ask  you  to  call? 
Does  all  the  world  know  half  as  much  as  it  pretends  to 
know?  Is  there  not  many  a  wretched  stock  of  goods 
with  a  brilliant  store  window?  Passing  up  and  down 
these  streets  to  your  business  and  your  work,  are  you  not 
impressed  with  the  fact  that  society  is  hollow,  and  that 
there  are  subterfuges  and  pretensions?  Oh!  how  many 
there  are  who  swagger  and  strut,  and  how  few  people 
who  are  natural  and  walk.  While  fops  simper,  and  fools 
chuckle,  and  simpletons  giggle,  how  few  people  are 
natural  and  laugh.  The  courtesan  and  the  libertine  go 
down  the  street  in  beautiful  apparel,  while  within  the 
heart  there  are  volcanoes  of  passion  consuming  their  life 
away.  I  say  these  things  not  to  create  in  you  incredulity 
or  misanthropy,  nor  do  I  forget  there  are  thousands  of 
people  a  great  deal  better  than  they  seem ;  but  I  do  not 
think  any  man  so  prepared  for  the  conflict  of  this  life 
until  he  knows  this  particular  peril.  Ehud  comes  pre- 
tending to  pay  his  tax  to  kingEglon,  and  while  he  stands 
in  front  of  the  king,  stabs  him  through  with  a  dagger 
until  the  haft  went  in  after  the  blade.  Judas  Iscariot 
kissed  Christ. 

Again,  the  street  impresses  me  with  the  fact  that  it  is 
a  great  field  for  Christian  charity.  There  are  hunger 
and  suffering,  and  want  and  wretchedness,  in  the  coun- 


THE  VOICES  OF  THE  STREET. 


227 


try;  but  these  evils  chiefly  congregate  in  our  great  cities. 
On  every  street  crime  prowls,  and  drunkenness  staggers, 
and  shame  winks,  and  pauperism  thrusts  out  its  hand 
asking  for  alms.  Here,  want  is  most  squalid  and  hun- 
ger is  most  lean.  A  Christian  man,  going  along  a  street 
in  New  York,  saw  a  poor  lad,  and  he  stooped  and  said: 
icMy  boy,  do  you  know  how  to  read  and  write?"  The 
boy  made  no  answer.  The  man  asked  the  question  twice 
and  thrice:  "Can  you  read  and  write?"  and  then  the 
boy  answered,  with  a  tear  plashing  on  the  hack  of  his 
hand.  He  said  in  defiance:  "  No,  sir;  I  can't  read  nor 
write,  neither.  God,  sir,  don't  want  me  to  read  and 
write.  Didn't  He  take  away  my  father  so  long  ago  I 
never  remember  to  have  seen  him?  and  haven't  I  had  to 
go  along  the  streets  to  get  something  to  fetch  home  to 
eat  for  the  folks?  and  didn't  I,  as  soon  as  I  could  carry 
a  basket,  have  to  go  out  and  pick  up  cinders,  and  never 
have  no  schooling,  sir?  God  don't  want  me  to  read,  sir. 
I  can't  read,  nor  write  neither."  Oh,  these  poor  wan- 
derers I  They  have  no  chance.  Born  in  degradation,  as 
they  get  up  from  their  hands  and  knees  to  walk,  they  take 
their  first  step  on  the  road  to  despair.  Let  us  go  forth  in 
the  name  of  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ  to  rescue  them.  Let  us 
ministers  not  be  afraid  of  soiling  our  black  clothes  while 
we  go  down  on  that  mission.  While  we  are  tying  an 
elaborate  knot  in  our  cravat,  or  while  we  are  in  the 
study  rounding  off  some  period  rhetorically,  we  might 
be  saving  a  soul  from  death,  and  hiding  a  multitude  of 
sins.  O  Christian  laymen,  go  out  on  this  work.  If  you 
are  not  willing  to  go  forth  yourself,  then  give  of  your 
means;  and  if  you  are  too  lazy  to  go,  and  if  you  are  too 
stingy  to  help,  then  get  out  of  the  way,  and  hide  your- 
self in  the  dens  and  caves  of  the  earth,  lest,  when 
Christ's  chariot  comes  along,  the  horses'  hoofs  trample 


228 


THE  VOICES  OF  THE  STREET. 


you  into  the  mire.  Beware  lest  the  thousands  of  the 
destitute  of  your  city,  in  the  last  great  day,  rise  up  and 
curse  your  stupidity  and  your  neglect.  Down  to  work  I 
Lift  them  up!  One  cold  winter's  day,  as  a  Christian 
man  was  going  along  the  Battery  in  New  York,  he  saw 
a  little  girl  seated  at  the  gate,  shivering  in  the  cold.  He 
said  to  her:  "  My  child,  what  do  you  sit  there  for,  this 
cold  day?"  "Oh,"  she  replied,  "I  am  waiting — I  am 
waiting  for  somebody  to  come  and  take  care  of  me." 
"  Why,"  said  the  man,  "  what  makes  yon  think  any- 
body will  come  and  take  care  of  you?"  "  Oh,"  she  said, 
"my  mother  died  last  week,  and  I  was  crying  very 
much,  and  she  said:  'Don't  cry,  dear;  though  I  am  gone 
and  your  father  is  gone,  the  Lord  will  send  somebody  to 
take  care  of  you.'  My  mother  never  told  a  lie;  she  said 
some  one  would  come  and  take  care  of  me,  and  I  am 
waiting  for  them  to  come."  O  yes,  they  are  waiting  for 
you.  Men  who  have  money,  men  who  have  influence, 
men  of  churches,  men  of  great  hearts,  gather  them  in, 
gather  them  in.  It  is  not  the  will  of  your  Heavenly 
Father  that  one  of  these  little  ones  should  perish. 

Lastly,  the  street  impresses  me  with  the  fact  that  all 
the  people  are  looking  forward.  I  see  expectancy  writ- 
ten on  almost  every  face  I  meet  between  here  and  Ful- 
ton ferry,  or  walking  the  whole  length  of  Broadway. 
Where  you  find  a  thousand  people  walking  straight  on, 
you  only  find  one  man  stopping  and  looking  back.  The 
fact  is,  God  made  us  all  to  look  ahead,  because  we  are 
immortal.  In  this  tramp  of  the  multitude  on  the 
streets,  I  hear  the  tramp  of  a  great  host,  inarching  and 
marching  for  eternity.  Beyond  the  office,  the  store,  the 
shop,  the  street,  there  is  a  world,  populous  and  tremen- 
dous. Through  God's  grace,  may  you  reach  that  blessed 
place.    A  great  throng  fills  those  boulevards,  and  the 


THE  VOICES  OF  THE  STKEET. 


229 


6treets  are  arush  with  the  chariots  of  conquerors.  The 
inhabitants  go  up  and  down,  but  they  never  weep  and 
they  never  toil.  A  river  flows  through  that  city,  with 
rounded  and  luxurious  banks,  and  trees  of  life  laden  with 
everlasting  fruitage  bend  their  branches  to  dip  the  crys- 
tal. No  plumed  hearse  rattles  over  that  pavement,  for 
they  are  never  sick.  "With  immortal  health  glowing  in 
every  vein  they  know  not  how  to  die.  Those  towers  of 
strength,  those  palaces  of  beauty,  gleam  in  the  light  of 
a  sun  that  never  sets.  Oh,  heaven,  beautiful  heaven! 
Heaven,  where  our  friends  are.  They  take  no  census  in 
that  city,  for  it  is  inhabited  by  "  a  multitude  which  no 
man  can  number."  Hank  above  rank.  Host  above  host. 
Gallery  above  gallery,  sweeping  all  around  the  heavens. 
Thousands  of  thousands.  Millions  of  millions.  Quad- 
rillions of  quadrillions.  Quintillions  of  quintillions. 
Blessed  are  they  who  enter  in  through  the  gate  into  that 
city.  Oh!  start  for  it  this  morning.  Through  the  blood 
of  the  great  sacrifice  of  the  Son  of  God/take  up  your  march 
for  heaven.  The  spirit  and  the  bride  say  come,  and  who- 
soever will,  let  him  come  and  take  of  the  water  of  life 
"  freely."  Join  this  great  throng  who  this  morning,  for 
the  first  time,  espouse  their  faith  in  Christ.  All  the 
doors  of  invitation  are  open.  "And  I  saw  twelve  gates 
and  they  were  twelve  pearls." 


230 


BLEEOES  IN  COMMON  LIFE. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

HEROES  IN  COMMON  LIFE. 
Thou,  therefore,  endure  hardness. — II.  Timothy  ii:  3. 

Historians  are  not  slow  to  acknowledge  the  merits  of 
great  military  chieftains.  We  have  the  full-length  por- 
traits of  the  Cromwells,  the  Washingtons,  the  Napoleons, 
and  the  Wellingtons  of  the  world.  History  is  not  writ- 
ten in  black  ink,  but  with  red  ink  of  human  blood.  The 
gods  of  human  ambition  do  not  drink  from  bowls  made 
out  of  silver,  or  gold,  or  precious  stones,  but  out  of  the 
bleached  skulls  of  the  fallen.  But  I  am  now  to  unroll 
before  you  a  scroll  of  heroes  that  the  world  has  never 
acknowledged;  those  who  faced  no  guns,  blew  no  bugle- 
blast,  conquered  no  cities,  chained  no  captives  to  their 
chariot- wheels,  and  yet,  in  the  great  day  of  eternity,  will 
stand  higher  than  those  whose  names  startled  the  nations; 
and  seraph,  and  rapt  spirit,  and  archangel  will  tell  their 
deeds  to  a  listening  universe.  -  I  mean  the  heroes  of 
common,  e very-day  life. 

In  this  roll,  in  the  first  place,  I  find  all  the  heroes  of 
the  sick  room.  When  Satan  had  failed  to  overcome 
Job,  he  said  to  God.  "Put  forth  thy  hand  and  touch  his 
bones  and  his  flesh,  and  he  will  curse  thee  to  thy  face." 
Satan  had  found  out  what  we  have  all  found  out,  that 
sickness  is  the  greatest  test  of  one's  character.  A  man 
who  can  stand  that  can  stand  anything.  To  be  shut  in 
a  room  as  fast  as  though  it  were  a  bastile.  To  be  so 
nervous  you  cannot  endure  the  tap  of  a  child's  foot.  To 


HEl-tOES  IN  COMMON  LIFE. 


231 


have  luxuriant  fruit,  which  tempts  the  appetite  of  the 
robust  and  healthy,  excite  our  loathing  and  disgust  when 
it  first  appears  on  the  platter.  To  have  the  rapier  of 
pain  strike  through  the  side,  or  across  the  temples,  like  a 
razor,  or  to  put  the  foot  into  a  vice,  or  throw  the  whole 
body  into  a  blaze  of  fever.  Yet  there  have  been  men 
and  women,  but  more  women  than  men,  who  have  cheer- 
fully endured  this  hardness.  Through  years  of  exhaust- 
ing rheumatisms  and  excruciating  neuralgias  they  have 
gone,  and  through  bodily  distresses  that  rasped  the 
nerves,  and  tore  the  muscles,  and  paled  the  cheeks,  and 
stooped  the  shoulders.  By  the  dim  light  of  the  sick 
room  taper  they  saw  on  their  wall  the  picture  of  that 
land  where  the  inhabitants  are  never  sick.  Through  the 
dead  silence  of  the  night  they  heard  the  chorus  of  the 
angels.  The  cancer  ate  away  her  life  from  week  to  week 
and  day  to  day,  and  she  became  weaker  and  weaker,  and 
every  "good  night"  was  feebler  than  the  "good  night" 
before — yet  never  sad.  The  children  looked  up  into  her 
face  and  saw  suffering  transformed  into  a  heavenlv  smile. 
Those  who  suffered  on  the  battle-field,  amid  shot  and 
shell,  were  not  so  much  heroes  and  heroines  as  those  who 
in  the  field  hospital  and  in  the  asylum  had  fevers  which 
no  ice  could  cool  and  no  surgery  could  cure.  No  shout 
of  comrade  to  cheer  them,  but  numbness,  and  aching, 
and  homesickness — yet  willing  to  suffer,  confident  in 
God,  hopeful  of  heaven.  Heroes  of  rheumatism.  He- 
roes of  neuralgia.  Heroes  of  spinal  complaint.  Heroes 
of  sick  headache.  Heroes  of  lifelong  invalidism.  He- 
roes and  heroines.  They  shall  reign  fur  ever  and  for  ever. 

Hark!  I  catch  just  one  note  of  the  eternal  anthem: 
"There  shall  be  no  more  pain."    Bless  God  for  that. 

In  this  roll  I  also  find  the  heroes  of  toil,  who  do  their 
work  uncomplainingly.    It  is  comparatively  easy  to  lead 


232 


HEROES  IN  COMMON  LIFE. 


a  regiment  into  batt'e  when  yon  know  that  the  whole 
nation  will  applaud  the  victory;  it  is  comparatively  easy 
to  doctor  the  sick  when  you  know  that  your  skill  will  be 
appreciated  by  a  large  company  of  friends  and  relatives; 
it  is  comparatively  easy  to  address  an  audience  when  in 
the  gleaming  eyes  and  the  flushed  cheeks  you  know  that 
your  sentiments  are  adopted;  but  to  do  sewing  where 
you  expect  that  the  employer  will  come  and  thrust  his 
thumb  through  the  work  to  show  how  imperfect  it  is,  or 
to  have  the  whole  garment  thrown  back  on  you  to  be 
done  over  again;  to  build  a  wall  and  know  there  will  be 
no  one  to  say  you  did  it  well,  but  only  a  swearing  em- 
ployer howling  across  the  scaffold;  to  work  until  your 
eyes  are  dim  and  your  back  aches,  and  your  heart  faints, 
and  to  know  that  if  you  stop  before  night  your  children 
will  starve.  Ah!  the  sword  has  not  slain  so  many  as 
the  needle.  The  great  battle-fields  of  our  last  war  were 
not  Gettysburg  and  Shiloh  and  South  Mountain.  The 
great  battle-fields  of  the  last  war  were  in  the  arsenals, 
and  in  the  shops  and  in  the  attics,  where  women  made 
army  jackets  for  a  sixpence.  They  toiled  on  until  they 
died.  They  had  no  funeral  eulogiura,  but  in  the  name 
of  my  God,  this  morning,  I  enroll  their  names  among 
those  of  whom  the  world  was  not  worthy.  Heroes  of 
the  needle.  Heroes  of  the  sewing-machine.  Heroes  of 
the  attic.  Heroes  of  the  cellar.  Heroes  and  heroines. 
Bless  God  for  them. 

In  this  roll  I  also  find  the  heroes  who  have  uncom- 
plainingly endured  domestic  injustices.  There  are  men 
who  for  their  toil  and  anxiety  have  no  sympathy  in  their 
homes.  Exhausting  application  to  business  gets  them  a 
livelihood,  but  an  unfrugal  wife  scatters  it.  He  is  fret- 
ted at  from  the  moment  he  enters  the  door  until  he 
comes  out  of  it.    The  exasperations  of  business  life 


HEROES  IN  COMMON  LIFE. 


233 


augmented  by  the  exasperations  of  domestic  life.  Such 
men  are  laughed  at,  but  they  have  a  heart-breaking 
trouble,  and  they  would  have  long  ago  gone  into  appal- 
ling dissipations  but  for  the  grace  of  God.  Society  to- 
day is  strewn  with  the  wrecks  of  men  who  under  the 
north-east  storm  of  domestic  infelicity  have  been  driven 
on  the  rocks.  There  are  tens  of  thousands  of  drunkards 
in  this  country  to-day,  made  such  by  their  wives.  That 
is  not  poetry!  That  is  prose!  But  the  wrong  ia  gener- 
ally in  the  opposite  direction.  You  would  not  have  to 
go  far  to  find  a  wife  whose  life  is  a  perpetual  martyrdom. 
Something  heavier  than  a  stroke  of  the  fist;  unkind 
words,  staggerings  home  at  midnight,  and  constant  mal- 
treatment, which  have  left  her  only  a  wreck  of  what  she 
was  on  that  day  when  in  the  midst  of  a  brilliant  assem- 
blage the  vows  were  taken,  and  full  organ  played  the 
wedding  march,  and  the  carriage  rolled  away  with  the 
benediction  of  the  people.  What  was  the  burning  of 
Latimer  and  Eidley  at  the  stake  compared  with  this  ? 
Those  men  soon  became  unconscious  in  the  fire,  but  here 
is  a  fifty  years'  martyrdom,  a  fifty  years'  putting  to  death, 
yet  uncomplaining.  No  bitter  words  when  the  rollicking 
companions  at  two  o'clock  in  the  morning  pitch  the  hus- 
band dead  drunk  into  the  front  entry.  No  bitter  words 
wh<m  wiping  from  the  swollen  brow  the  blood  struck 
out  in  a  midnight  carousal.  Bending  over  the  battered 
and  bruised  form  of  him  who,  when  he  took  her  from 
her  fathei 's  home,  promised  love,  and  kindness,  and  pro- 
tection, yet  nothing  but  sympathy,  and  prayers,  and 
forgiveness  before  they  are  asked  for.  No  bitter  words 
when  the  family  Bible  goes  for  rum,  and  the  pawn- 
broker's shop  gets  the  last  decent  dress.  Some  day,  de- 
siring to  evoke  the  story  of  her  sorrows,  you  say:  "Well, 
how  are  you  getting  along  now?"  and  rallying  her  trera- 


234: 


KEK0E  i  IN  COMMON  LIFE. 


bling  voice,  and  quieting  her  quivering  lip,  she  says: 
"Pretty  well,  I  thank  yon,  pretty  well."  She  never  will 
tell  you.  In  the  delirium  of  her  last  sickness  she  may 
tell  all  the  secrets  of  her  lifetime,  but  she  will  not  tell 
that.  Not  until  the  books  of  eternity  are  opened  on  the 
thrones  of  judgment  will  ever  be  known  what  she  has 
suffered.  Oh!  ye  who  are  twisting  a  garland  for  the 
victor,  put  it  on  that  pale  brow.  When  she  is  dead  the 
neighbors  will  beg  linen  to  make  her  a  shroud,  and  she 
will  be  carried  out  in  a  plain  box  with  no  silver  plate  to 
tell  her  years,  for  she  has  lived  a  thousand  years  of  trial 
and  anguish.  The  gamblers  and  swindlers  who  destroyed 
her  husband  will  not  come  to  the  funeral.  One  carriage 
will  be  enough  for  that  funeral — one  carriage  to  carry 
the  orphans  and  the  two  Christian  women  who  presided 
over  the  obsequies.  But  there  is  a  flash,  and  the  open- 
ing of  a  celestial  door,  and  a  shout:  "Lift  up  your  head, 
ye  everlasting  gate,  and  let  her  come  in!"  And  Christ 
will  step  forth  and  say:  "Come  in!  ye  suffered  with 
me  on  earth,  be  glorified  with  me  in  heaven."  "What  is 
the  highest  throne  in  heaven?  You  say:  uThe  throne 
of  the  Lord  God  Almighty  and  the  Lamb."  No  doubt 
about  it.  What  is  the  next  highest  throne  in  heaven? 
While  I  speak  it  seems  to  me  that  it  will  be  the  throne 
of  the  drunkard's  wife,  if  she,  with  cheerful  patience, 
endured  all  her  earthly  torture.    Heroes  and  heroines. 

I  find  also  in  this  roll  the  heroes  of  Christian  charity. 
We  all  admire  the  George  Peabodys  and  the  James 
Lenoxes  of  the  earth,  who  give  tens  and  hundreds  of 
thousands  of  dollars  to  good  objects.  A  few  days  ago 
Moses  H.  Grinnell  was  buried,  and  the  most  significant 
thing  about  the  ceremonies,  as  I  read  them,  was  that 
there  was  no  sermon  and  no  oration;  a  plain  hymn,  a 
prayer,  and  a  benediction.    Well,  I  said,  that  is  very 


HERCKS  IN  COMMON  LIFE. 


235 


beautiful.  All  Christendom  pronounces  the  eulogium 
of  Moses  £L.  Grinnell,  and  the  icebergs  that  stand  as 
monuments  to  Franklin  and  his  men  will  stand  as 
the  monuments  of  this  great  merchant,  and  the  sunlight 
that  plays  upon  the  glittering  cliff  will  write  his  epitaph. 
Bat  I  am  speaking  this  morning  of  those  who,  out  of 
their  pinched  poverty,  help  others — of  such  men  as  those 
Christian  missionaries  at  the  West,  who  are  living  on 
$250  a  year  that  they  may  proclaim  Christ  to  the  peo- 
ple, one  of  them,  writing  to  the  secretary  in  Xew  York, 
saying:  "I  thank  you  for  that  $25.  Until  yesterday  we 
have  had  no  meat  in  our  house  for  three  months.  We 
have  suffered  terribly.  My  children  have  no  shoes  this 
winter."  And  of  those  people  who  have  only  a  half  loaf 
of  bread,  but  give  a  piece  of  it  to  others  who  are  hun- 
grier; and  of  those  who  have  only  a  scuttle  of  coal,  but 
help  others  to  fuel;  and  of  those  who  have  only  a  dollar 
in  their  pocket,  and  give  twenty-five  cents  to  somebody 
else;  and  of  that  father  who  wears  a  shabby  coat,  and  of 
that  mother  who  wears  a  faded  dress,  that  their  children 
may  bo  well  apparelled.  You  call  them  paupers,  or  rag- 
in  iiffins,  or  emigrants.  I  call  them  heroes  and  heroines. 
You  and  I  may  not  know  where  they  live,  or  what  their 
name  is.  God  knows,  and  they  have  more  angels  hover- 
ing over  them  than  you  and  I  have,  and  they  will  have  a 
higher  seat  in  heaven. 

They  may  have  only  a  enp  of  cold  water  to  give  a  poor 
traveler,  or  may  have  only  picked  a  splinter  from  under 
the  nail  of  a  child's  finger,  or  have  put  on]y  two  mites 
into  the  treasury,  but  the  Lord  knows  them.  Consider- 
ing what  they  had,  they  did  more  than  we  have  ever 
done,  and  their  faded  dress  will  become  a  white  robe, 
and  the  small  room  will  be  an  eternal  mansion,  and  the 
old  hat  will  be  a  coronet  of  victory,  and  all  the  applause 


236 


HEROES  IX  COMMON  LIFE. 


of  earth  and  all  the  shouting  of  heaven  will  be  drowned 
out  when  God  rises  up  to  give  his  reward  to  those  hum- 
ble workers  in  his  kingdom,  and  to  say  to  them:  "Well 
done,  good  and  faithful  servant."  You  have  all  seen  or 
heard  of  the  rum  of  Melrose  Abbey.  I  suppose  in  some 
respects  it  is  the  most  exquisite  ruin  on  earth.  And  yet, 
looking  at  it  I  was  not  so  impressed — you  may  set  it  down 
to  bad  taste — but  I  was  not  so  deeply  stirred  as  I  was  at 
a  tombstone  at  the  foot  of  that  abbey — the  tombstone 
placed  by  Walter  Scott  over  the  grave  of  an  old  man 
who  had  served  him  for  a  good  many  years  in  his  house 
— the  inscription  most  significant,  and  I  defy  any  man 
to  stand  there  and  read  it  without  tears  coming  into  his 
eyes — the  epitaph:  "Well  done,  good  and  faithful  ser- 
vant." Oh!  when  our  work  is  over,  will  it  be  found  that 
because  of  anything  we  have  done  for  God,  or  the  church, 
or  suffering  humanity,  that  such  an  inscription  is  appro- 
priate for  us?    God  grant  it. 

Who  are  those  who  were  bravest  and  deserved  the  great- 
est monument — Lord  Claverhouse  and  his  burly  soldiers, 
or  John  Erown,  the  Edinburgh  carrier,  and  his  wife? 
Mr.  Atkins,  the  persecuted  minister  of  Jesus  Christ  in 
Scotland,  was  secreted  by  John  Brown  and  his  wife,  and 
Claverhouse  rode  up  one  day  with  his  armed  men  and 
shouted  in  front  of  the  house.  John  Brown's  little  girl 
came  out.  He  said  to  her:  "Well,  miss,  is  Mr.  Atkins 
here?"  She  made  no  answer,  for  she  could  not  betray  the 
minister  of  the  Gospel.  "Ha!"  Claverhouse  said,  "then 
you  are  a  chip  of  the  old  block,  are  you?  I  have  some- 
thing in  my  pocket  for  you.  It  is  a  nosegay.  Some 
people  call  it  a  thumbscrew,  but  I  call  it  a  nosegay." 
And  he  got  off  his  horse,  and  he  put  it  on  the  little  girl's 
hand,  and  began  to  turn  it  until  the  bones  cracked,  and 
she  cried.    He  said,  "Don't  cry,  don't  cry;  this  isn't  a 


HEBOES  IX  CO^Mu-N  LIFE. 


237 


thumbscrew;  this  is  a  nosegay."  And  they  heard  the 
child's  cry,  and  the  father  and  mother  came  out,  and 
Claverhouse  said,  ''Ha!  it  seems  that  you  three  have 
laid  your  holy  heads  together  determined  to  die  like  all 
the  rest  of  your  hypocritical,  canting,  snivelling  crew; 
rather  than  give  up  good  Mr.  Atkins,  pious  Mr.  Atkins, 
you  would  die.  I  have  a  telescope  with  me  that  will 
improve  your  vision, n  and  he  pulled  out  a  pistol.  '\Xow," 
he  said,  "you  old  pragmatical,  lest  you  should  catch 
cold  in  this  cold  morning  of  Scotland,  and  for  the  honor 
and  safety  of  the  king,  to  say  nothing  of  the  glory  of 
God  and  the  good  of  our  souls,  I  will  proceed  simply 
and  in  the  neatest  and  most  expeditious  style  possible  to 
blow  your  brains  out."  John  Brown  fell  upon  his  knees 
and  began  to  pray.  "Ah!"  said  Claverhouse,  "look  out, 
if  you  are  going  to  pray;  steer  clear  of  the  king,  the 
council,  and  Richard  Cameron."  M0!  Lord,"  said  John 
Brown,  "since  it  seems  to  be  thy  will  that  I  should  leave 
this  world  for  a  world  where  I  can  love  thee  better  and 
serve  thee  more,  I  put  this  poor  widow  woman  and  these 
helpless,  fatherless  children  into  thy  hands.  We  have 
been  together  in  peace  a  good  while,  but  now  we  must 
look  forth  to  a  better  meeting  in  heaven,  and  as  for  these 
poor  creatures,  blindfolded  and  infatuated,  that  stand 
before  me,  convert  them  before  it  be  too  late,  and  may 
they  who  have  sat  in  judgment  in  this  lonely  place  on 
this  blessed  morning,  upon  me,  a  poor,  defenceless  fel- 
low-creature— may  they,  in  the  last  judgment  find  that 
mercy  which  they  have  refused  to  me,  thy  most  unwor- 
thy, but  faithful  servant.  Amen."  He  rose  up  and  said, 
"Isabel,  the  hour  has  come  of  which  I  spoke  to  you  on 
the  morning  when  I  proposed  hand  and  heart  to  you; 
and  are  you  willing  now,  for  the  love  of  God,  to  let  me 
die?"    She  put  her  arms  around  him  and  said: — "The 


"238  HEROES  IN  COMMON  LIFE. 

Lord  gave,  and  the  Lord  hath  taken  away.  Blessed  be 
the  name  of  the  Lord!"  "Stop  that  snivelling,"  said 
Claverhouse.  "I  have  had  enough  of  it.  Soldiers,  do 
your  work.  Take  aim!  Fire!"  and  the  head  of  John 
Brown  was  scattered  on  the  ground.  While  the  wife 
was  gathering  up  in  her  apron  the  fragments  of  her  hus- 
band's head — gathering  them  up  for  burial — Claverhouse 
looked  into  her  face  and  said,  "Now,  my  good  woman, 
how  do  you  feel  now  about  your  bonnie  man?"  "Oh!" 
she  said,  "I  always  thought  weel  of  him;  he  has  been 
very  good  to  me;  I  had  no  reason  for  thinking  anything 
but  weel  of  him,  and  I  think  better  of  him  now."  Oh! 
what  a  grand  thing  it  will  be  in  the  last  day  to  see  God 
pick  out  his  heroes  and  heroines.  Who  are  those  pau- 
pers of  eternity  trudging  off  from  the  gates  of  heaven? 
Who  are  they?  The  Lord  Claverhouses  and  the  Herods 
and  those  who  had  sceptres,  and  crowns,  and  thrones, 
but  they  lived  for  their  own  aggrandisement,  and  they 
broke  the  heart  of  nations.  Heroes  of  earth,  but  pau- 
pers in  eternity.  I  beat  the  drums  of  their  eternal  des- 
pair.   Woe!  woe!  woe! 

But  there  is  great  excitement  in  heaven.  Why  those 
long  processions?  Why  the  booming  of  that  great  bell 
in  the  tower?    It  is  coronation  day  in  heaven. 

Who  are  those  rising  on  the  thrones,  with  crowns  of 
eternal  royalty?  They  must  have  been  great  people  on 
earth,  world-renowned  people.  ~No.  They  taught  in  a 
ragged  school.  Taught  in  a  ragged  school!  Is  that  all? 
That  is  all.  Who  are  those  souls  waving  sceptres  of 
eternal  dominion?  Why,  they  were  little  children  who 
waited  on  invalid  mothers.  That  all?  That  is  all.  She 
was  called  "Little  Mary"  on  earth.  She  is  an  empress 
now.  Who  are  that  great  multitude  on  the  highest 
thrones  of  heaven  ?    Who  are  they  ?    Why,  they  fed  the 


HEROES  IX   COMMON  LIFE. 


239 


hungry,  they  clothed  the  naked,  they  healed  the  sick,  they 
comforted  the  heart-broken.  They  never  found  any  rest 
until  they  put  their  head  down  on  the  pillow  of  the  sep- 
ulchre. God  watched  them.  God  laughed  defiance  at 
the  enemies  who  put  their  heels  hard  down  on  these  His 
dear  children;  and  one  day  the  Lord  struck  His  hand  so 
hard  on  His  thigh  that  the  omnipotent  sword  rattled  in 
the  buckler,  as  He  said:  "I  am  their  God,  and  no  weapon 
formed  against  them  shall  prosper."  What  harm  can 
the  world  do  you  when  the  Lord  Almighty  with  un- 
sheathed sword  fights  for  you? 

I  preach  this  sermon  this  morning  in  comfort.  Go 
home  to  the  place  just  where  God  has  put  you  to  play 
the  hero  or  the  heroine.  Do  not  envy  any  man  his 
money,  or  his  applause,  or  his  social  position.  Do  not 
envy  any  woman  her  wardrobe,  or  her  exquisite  appear- 
ance. Be  the  hero  or  the  heroine.  Tf  there  be  no  flour 
in  the  house,  and  you  do  not  know  where  your  children 
are  to  get  bread,  listen,  and  you  will  hear  something 
tapping  against  the  window-pane.  Go  to  the  window 
and  you  will  find  it  is  the  beak  of  a  raven,  and  open  the 
window,  and  there  will  fly  in  the  messenger  that  fed 
Elijah.  Do  you  think  that  the  God  who  grows  the  cot- 
ton of  the  South  will  let  you  freeze  for  lack  of  clothes? 
Do  you  think  that  the  God  who  allowed  the  disciples  on 
Sunday  morning  to  go  into  the  grain-field,  and  then  take 
the  grain  and  rub  it  in  their  hands  and  eat — do  you 
think  God  will  let  you  starve?  Did  you  ever  hear  the 
experience  of  that  old  man:  "I  have  been  young,  and 
now  am  I  old,  yet  have  I  never  seen  the  righteous  for- 
saken, or  his  seed  begging  bread"?  Get  up  out  of  your 
discouragement,  O!  troubled  soul,  O!  sewing  woman, 
O!  man,  kicked  and  cuffed  by  unjust  employers,  O!  je 
who  are  hard  beset  in  the  battle  of  life  and  know  not 


240 


HEROES  IN  COMMON  LIFE. 


which  way  to  turn,  O!  you  bereft  one,  O!  you  sick  one 
with  complaints  you  have  told  to  no  one,  come  and  get 
the  comfort  of  this  subject.  Listen  to  our  great  Cap- 
tain's cheer:  "To  him  that  overcometh  will  I  give  to 
eat  of  the  fruit  of  the  tree  of  life  which  is  in  the  midst 
of  the  Paradise  of  God." 


THii,  MIDNIGHT  HOKSEMA^. 


241 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

THE  MIDNIGHT  HORSEMAN. 

Then  I  went  up  in  the  night  by  the  brook  and  viewed  the  wall, 
and  turned  back,  and  entered  by  the  gate  of  the  valley,  and  so  re- 
turned.— Nehemiah  ii:  15. 

A  dead  city  is  more  suggestive  than  a  living  city — 
past  Rome  than  present  Rome — ruins  rather  than 
newly  frescoed  cathedral.  But  the  best  time  to  visit  a 
ruin  is  by  moonlight.  The  Coliseum  is  far  more  fascin- 
ating to  the  traveler  after  sundown  than  before.  You 
may  stand  by  daylight  amid  the  monastic  ruins  ot  Mel- 
rose Abbey,  and  study  shafted  oriel,  and  rosetted  stone 
and  mullion,  but  they  throw  their  strongest  witchery  by 
moonlight.  Some  of  you  remember  what  the  enchanter 
of  Scotland  said  in  the  u  Lay  of  the  Last  Minstrel:" 

"  Wbuldst  thou  view  fair  Melrose  aright, 
Go  visit  it  by  the  pale  moolight" 

"Washington  Irving  describes  the  Andalusian  moon- 
light upon  the  Alhambra  ruins  as  amounting  to  an, en- 
chantment. My  text  presents  you  Jerusalem  in  ruins. 
The  tower  down.  The  gates  down.  The  walls  down. 
Everything  down.  Xehetniah  on  horseback,  by  moon- 
light looking  upon  the  ruins.  While  he  rides,  there  are 
some  friends  on  foot  going  with  him,  for  they  do  not 
want  the  many  horses  to  disturb  the  suspicions  of  the 
people.  These  people  do  not  know  the  secret  of  N*ehe- 
miah's  heart,  but  thev  are  going  as  a  sort  of  body-guard. 
16 


2-1-2 


THE  MIDNIGHT  HORSEMAN. 


I  hear  the  clicking  hoofs  of  the  horse  on  which  Nche 
miah  rides,  as  he  guides  it  this  way  and  that,  into  this 
gate  and  out  of  that,  winding  through  that  gate  amid 
the  debris  of  once  great  Jerusalem.  Now  the  horse 
comes  to  a  dead  halt  at  the  tumbled  masonry  where  he 
cannot  pass.  Now  he  shies  off  at  the  charred  timbers. 
Now  he  comes  along  where  the  water  under  the  moon- 
light flashes  from  the  mouth  of  the  brazen  dragon  after 
which  the  gate  was  named.  Heavy-hearted  Nehemiah! 
Hiding  in  and  out,  now  by  his  old  home  desolated,  now 
by  the  defaced  Temple,  now  amid  the  scars  of  the  city 
that  had  gone  down  under  battering-ram  and  conflagra- 
tion. The  escorting  party  knows  not  what  Nehemiah 
means.  Is  he  gutting  crazy?  Have  his  own  personal 
sorrows,  added  to  the  sorrows  of  the  nation,  unbalanced 
his  intellect?  Still  the  midnight  exploration  goes  on.  Ne- 
hemiah on  horseback  rides  through  the  fish  gate,  by  the 
tower  of  the  furnaces,  by  the  king's  pool,by  the  dragon  well, 
in  and  out,  in  and  out,  until  the  midnight  ride  is  com- 
pleted, and  Nehemiah  dismounts  from  his  horse,  and  to 
the  amazed  aud  confounded  and  incredulous  body-guard, 
declares  the  dead  secret  of  his  heart  when  he  says: 
"  Come,  now,  let  us  build  Jerusalem."  "  What,  Nehe- 
miah, have  yon  any  money?"  u  No."  **  Have  you  any 
kingly  authority?1'  "No."  "Have  you  any  eloquence?" 
"No."  Yet  that  midnight,  moonlight  ride  of  Nehemiah 
resulted  in  the  glorious  rebuilding  of  the  ei  ty  of  Jerusalem. 
The  people  knew  not  how  the  thing  was  to  be  done,  but 
with  great  enthusiasm  they  cried  out:  "  Let  us  rise  up 
now  and  build  the  city.''  Some  people  laughed  and  said 
it  could  not  be  done.  Some  people  were  infuriate  and 
offered  physical  violence,  saying  the  thing  should  not  be 
done.  But  the  workmen  went  right  on,  standing  on  the 
wall,  trowel  in  one  hand,  sword  in  the  other,  until  the 


THE  MIDXIG-HT  HORSEMAN. 


work  was  gloriously  completed.  At  that  very  time,  in 
Greece,  Xenopbon  was  writing  a  history,  and  Plato  was 
making  philosophy,  and  Demosthenes  was  rattling  his 
rhetorical  thunder;  but  all  of  them  together  did  not  do 
so  much  for  the  world  as  this  midnight,  moonlight  ride 
of  praying,  courageous,  homesick,  close-mouthed  Xe- 
hemiah. 

My  subject  first  impresses  me  with  the  idea  what  an 
intense  thing  is  church  affection.  Seize  the  bridle  of  that 
horse  and  stop  Xehemiah.  Tv~hy  are  you  risking  your 
life  here  in  the  night?  Your  horse  will  stumble  over 
these  ruins  and  fall  on  yon.  Stop  this  useless  exposure 
of  your  life.  No;  Xehemiah  will  not  stop.  He  at  last 
tells  us  the  whole  story.  He  lets  us  know  he  was  an 
exile  in  a  far  distant  land,  and  he  was  a  servant,  a  cup- 
bearer in  the  palace  of  Artaxerxes  Longimanus,  and  one 
day,  while  he  was  handing  the  cup  of  wine  to  the  king, 
the  king  said  to  him,  ki  What  is  the  matter  with  you? 
You  are  not  sick.  I  know  you  must  have  some  great 
trouble.  What  is  the  matter  with  you?"  Then  he  told 
the  king  how  that  beloved  Jerusalem  was  broken  down; 
how  that  his  father's  tomb  had  been  desecrated;  how 
that  the  Temple  had  been  dishonored  and  defaced :  how 
that  the  walls  were  scattered  and  broken.  "Well,"  says 
King  Artaxerxes,  "  what  do  you  want?"  "  Well,"  said 
the  cup-bearer  Nehemiah,  "  I  want  to  go  home.  I  want 
to  fix  up  the  grave  of  my  father.  I  want  to  restore  the 
beauty  of  the  Temple.  I  want  to  rebuild  the  masonry 
of  the  city  wall.  Besides,  I  want  passports  so  that  I 
shall  not  be  hindered  in  my  journey.  And  besides  that," 
as  you  will  find  in  the  context,  "  I  want  an  order  on  the 
man  who  keeps  your  forest  for  just  so  much  timber  as  I 
may  need  for  the  rebuilding  of  the  city."  "How  long 
shall  you  be  gone?"  said  the  king.    The  time  of  absence 


THE  MIDNIGHT  HORSEMAN. 


is  arranged.  In  hot  haste  this  seeming  adventurer  comes 
to  Jerusalem,  and  in  my  text  we  find  him  on  horseback, 
in  the  midnight,  riding  around  the  ruins.  It  is  through 
the  spectacles  of  this  scene  that  we  discover  the  ardent 
attachment  of  Nehemiah  for  sacred  Jerusalem,  which  in 
all  ages  has  been  the  type  of  the  church  of  God,  our 
Jerusalem,  which  we  love  just  as  much  as  Nehemiah 
loved  his  Jerusalem.  The  fact  is  that  you  love  the 
church  of  God  so  much  that  there  is  no  spot  on  earth  so 
sacred,  unless  it  be  your  own  fireside.  The  church  has 
been  to  you  so  much  comfort  and  illumination  that  there 
is  nothing  that  makes  you  so  irate  as  to  have  it  talked 
against.  If  there  have  been  times  when  you  have  been 
carried  into  captivity  by  sickness,  you  longed  for  the 
Church,  our  holy  Jerusalem,  just  as  much  as  Nehemiah 
longed  for  his  Jerusalem,  and  the  first  day  you  came  out 
you  came  to  the  house  of  the  Lord.  When  the  temple 
was  in  ruins,  as  ours  was  five  years  ago,  like  Nehemiah, 
you  walked  around  and  looked  at  it,  and  in  the  moon- 
light you  stood  listening  if  you  could  not  hear  the  voice 
of  the  dead  organ,  the  psalm  of  the  expired  Sabbaths. 
What  Jerusalem  was  to  Nehemiah,  the  Church  of  God 
is  to  you.  Sceptics  and  infidels  may  scoff  at  the  Church 
as  an  obsolete  affair,  as  a  relic  of  the  dark  ages,  as  a  con- 
vention of  goody-goody  people,  but  all  the  impression 
they  have  ever  made  on  your  mind  against  the  Church  of 
God  is  absolutely  nothing.  You  would  make  more  sac- 
rifices for  it  to-day  than  for  any  other  institution,  and  if 
it  were  needful  you  would  die  in  its  defence.  You  can 
take  the  words  of  the  kingly  poet  as  he  said:  "If  I 
forget  thee,  O  Jerusalem,  let  my  right  hand  forget  her 
cunning."  You  understand  in  your  own  experience  the 
pathos,  the  home-sickness,  the  courage,  the  holy  enthu- 


THE  MIDNIGHT  HORSEMAN. 


245 


siasm  of  Nehemiah  ia  his  midnight  moonlight  ride 
around  the  ruins  of  his  beloved  Jerusalem. 

Again,  my  text  impresses  me  with  the  fact  that,  before 
reconstruction,  there  must  be  an  exploration  of  ruins. 
"Why  was  not  Nehemiah  asleep  under  the  covers?  Why 
was  not  his  horse  stabled  in  the  midnight?  Let  the  police 
of  the  city  arrest  this  midnight  rider,  out  on  some  mis- 
chief. No.  Nehemiah  is  going  to  rebuild  the  city,  and 
he  is  making  the  preliminary  exploration.  In  this  gate, 
out  that  gate,  east,  west,  north,  south.  All  through  the 
ruins.  The  ruins  must  be  explored  before  the  work  of 
reconstruction  can  begin.  The  reason  that  so  man  j 
people  in  this  day,  apparently  converted,  do  not  stay 
converted  is  because  they  did  not  first  explore  the  ruins 
of  their  own  heart.  The  reason  that  there  are  so  many 
professed  Christians  who  in  this  day  lie  and  forge  and 
steal,  and  commit  adultery,  and  go  to  the  penitentiary, 
is  because  they  first  do  not  learn  the  ruin  of  their  own 
heart.  They  have  not  found  out  that  "  the  heart  is  de- 
ceitful above  all  things,  and  desperately  wicked."  They 
had  an  idea  that  they  were  almost  right,  and  they  built 
religion  as  a  sort  of  extension,  as  an  ornamental  cupola. 
There  was  a  superstructure  of  religion  built  on  a  sub- 
stratum of  unrepented  sins.  The  trouble  with  a  good 
deal  of  modern  theology  is  that  instead  of  building  on 
the  right  foundation,  it  builds  on  the  debris  of  an  nnre- 
regenerated  nature.  They  attempt  to  rebuild  Jerusalem 
before,  in  the  midnight  of  conviction,  they  have  seen 
the  ghastliness  of  the  ruin.  They  have  such  a  poor 
foundation  for  their  religion  that  the  first  north-east 
storm  of  temptation  blows  them  down.  I  have  no  faith 
in  a  man's  conversion  if  he  is  not  converted  in  the  old- 
fashioned  way — John  Bunyan's  way,  John  Wesley's  way, 
John  Calvin's  way,  Paul's  way,  Christ's  way,  God's  way. 


246 


THE  MIDNIGHT  HOUSEMAN. 


A  dentist  said  to  me  a  few  days  ago,  "  Does  that  hurt!" 
Said  I,  u  Of  course  it  hurts.  It  is  in  your  business  as 
my  profession.  We  have  to  hurt  before  we  can  help." 
You  will  never  understand  redemption  until  you  under- 
stand ruin.  A  man  tells  me  that  some  one  is  a  member 
of  the  church.  It  makes  no  impression  on  my  mind  at 
all.  I  simply  want  to  know  whether  he  was  converted 
in  the  old-fashioned  way,  or  whether  he  was  converted  in 
the  new-fashioned  way.  If  he  was  converted  in  the  old- 
fashioned  way  he  will  stand.  If  he  was  converted  in  the 
new-fashioned  way  he  will  not  stand.  That  is  all  there  is 
about  it.  A  man  comes  to  me  to  talk  about  religion. 
The  first  question  I  ask  him  is,  "  Do  you  feel  yourself 
to  be  a  sinner?"  If  he  say,  "Well,  I — yes,"  the  hesi- 
tancy makes  me  feel  that  that  man  wants  a  ride  on  ~Ne- 
hemiah's  horse  by  midnight  through  the  ruins — in  by 
the  gate  of  his  affections,  out  by  the  gate  of  his  will;  and 
before  he  has  got  through  with  that  midnight  ride  he 
will  drop  the  reins  on  the  horse's  neck,  and  will  take  his 
right  hand  and  smite  on  his  heart  and  say,  "God  be  mer- 
ciful to  me  a  sinner;"  and  before  he  lias  stabled  his 
horse  he  will  take  his  feet  out  of  the  stirrups,  and  he 
will  slide  down  on  the  ground,  and  he  will  kneel,  crying, 
"  Have  mercy  on  me,  O  God,  according  to  thy  loving- 
kindness,  according  unto  the  multitude  of  thy  tender 
mercies;  blot  out  my  transgressions,  for  I  acknowledge 
my  transgressions,  and  my  sins  are  ever  before  thee." 
Ah,  my  friends,  you  see  this  is  not  a  complimentary  gos- 
pel. That  is  what  makes  some  people  so  mad.  It  conies 
to  a  man  of  a  million  dollars,  and  impenitent  in  his  sins, 
and  says,  u  You're  a  pauper."  It  comes  to  a  woman  of 
fairest  cheek,  who  has  never  repented,  and  says,  "You're 
a  sinner."  It  comes  to  a  man  priding  himself  on  his 
independence,  and  says,  "You're  bound  hand  and  foot  by 


THE  MIDNIGHT  HORSEMAN. 


247 


the  devil."  It  comes  to  oar  entire  race  and  says. 
"  You're  a  ruin,  a  ghastly  ruin,  an  illimitable  ruin." 
Satan  sometimes  says  to  me,  u  Why  do  you  preach  that 
truth?  Why  don't  you  preach  a  gospel  with  no  repen- 
tance in  it?  Why  don't  you  flatter  men's  hearts  so  that 
you  make  them  feel  all  right?  Why  don't  you  preach  a 
humanitarian  gospel  with  no  repentance  in  it,  saying 
nothing  ahout  the  ruin,  talking  all  the  time  about 
redemption?  Instead  of  preaching  to  live  thousand 
you  might  preacli  to  twenty  thousand,  for  there  would 
be  four  times  as  many  who  would  come  to  hear 
a  popular  truth  as  to  hear  an  unpopular  truth,  and  you 
have  voice  enough  to  make  them  hear."  I  say,  "Get 
thee  behind  me,  Satan."  I  would  rather  lead  five  souls 
into  heaven  than  twenty  thousand  into  hell.  The  re- 
demption of  the  gospel  is  a  perfect  farce  if  there  is  no 
ruin.  "  The  whole  need  not  a  physician,  but  they  that 
are  sick."  "If  any  one,  though  he  be  an  angel  from 
heaven,  preach  any  other  gospel  than  this,"  says  the 
apostle,  "  let  him  be  accursed."  There  must  be  the  mid- 
night ride  over  the  ruins  before  Jerusalem  can  be  built 
There  must  be  the  clicking  of  the  hoofs  before  there  can 
be  the  ring  of  the  trowels. 

Again.  My  subject  gives  me  a  specimen  of  busy  and 
triumphant  sadness.  If  there  was  any  man  in  the 
world  who  had  a  right  to  mope  and  give  up  everything 
as  lost,  it  was  Nehemiah.  You  say,  a  He  was  a  cup- 
bearer in  the  palace  of  Shushan,  and  it  was  a  grand 
place."  So  it  was.  The  hall  of  that  palace  was  two  hundred 
feet  square,  and  the  roof  hovered  over  thirty-six  marble 
pillars,  each  pillar  sixty  feet  high;  and  the  intense  blue 
of  the  sky,  and  the  deep  green  of  the  forest  foliage,  and 
the  white  of  the  driven  snow,  all  hung  trembling  in  the 
upholstery.    But,  my  friends, you  know  very  well  that  fine 


243 


THE  MIDNIGHT  HORSEMAN. 


architecture  will  not  put  down  home-sickness.  Yet  Nehe- 
miah  did  not  give  up.  Then  when  you  see  him  going 
among  these  desolated  streets,  and  by  these  dismantled 
towers,  and  by  the  torn-up  grave  of  his  father,  you 
would  suppose  that  he  would  have  been  disheartened, 
and  that  he  would  have  dismounted  from  his  horse  and 
gone  to  his  room  and  said:  u  Woe  is  me!  My  father's 
grave  is  torn  up.  The  temple  is  dishonored.  The  walls 
are  broken  down.  I  have  no  money  with  which  to 
rebuild.  I  wish  I  had  never  been  born.  I  wish  I  were 
dead."  Not  so  says  Nehemiah.  Although  he  had  a  grief 
so  intense  that  it  excited  the  commentary  of  his  king, 
yet  that  penniless,  expatriated  Nehemiah  rouses  himself 
up  to  rebuild  the  city.  He  gets  his  permission  of  ab- 
sence. He  gets  his  passports.  He  hastens  away  to 
Jerusalem.  By  night  on  horseback  he  rides  through  the 
ruins.  He  overcomes  the  most  ferocious  opposition.  He 
arouses  the  piety  and  patriotism  of  the  people,  and  in 
less  than  two  months,  namely,  in  fifty-two  days,  Jerusa- 
lem was  rebuilt.  That's  what  I  call  busy  and  triumpant 
sadness. 

My  friends,  the  whole  temptation  is  with  you  when 
you  have  trouble,  to  do  just  the  opposite  to  the  behavior 
of  Nehemiah,  and  that  is  to  give  up.  You  say:  "I 
have  lost  my  child  and  can  never  smile  again."  Yon 
say,  "I  have  lost  my  property,  and  I  never  can  repair  my 
fortunes."  You  say,  "I  have  fallen  into  sin,  and  I  never  can 
start  again  for  a  new  life."  If  Satan  can  make  you  form 
that  resolution,  and  make  you  keep  it,  he  has  ruined  you. 
Trouble  is  not  sent  to  crush  you,  but  to  arouse  you,  to 
animate  you,  to  propel  you.  The  blacksmith  does  not 
thrust  the  iron  into  the  forge,  and  then  blow  away  with 
the  bellows,  and  then  bring  the  hot  iron  out  on  the  anvil 
and  beat  with  stroke  after  stroke  to  ruin  the  iron,  but  to 


THE  MIDNIGHT  HOKSEMAN. 


249 


prepare  it  for  a  better  use.  Oh  that  the  Lord  God  oi 
ETehemiah  would  rouse  up  all  broken-hearted  people  to 
rebuild.  Whipped,  betrayed,  shipwrecked,  imprisoned, 
Paul  went  right  on.  The  Italian  martyr  Algerius  sits 
in  his  dungeon  writing  a  letter,  and  he  dates  it  "From 
the  delectable  orchard  of  the  Leonine  prison."  That  is 
what  1  call  triumphant  sadness.  I  knew  a  mother  who 
buried  her  babe  on  Friday  and  on  Sabbath  appeared  in 
the  house  of  God  and  said:  "Give  me  a  class;  give  me  a 
Sabbath-school  class.  I  have  no  child  now  left  me,  and 
I  would  like  to  have  a  class  of  little  children.  Give  me 
real  poor  children.  Give  me  a  class  off  the  back  street." 
That,  I  say,  is  beautiful.  That  is  triumphant  sadness- 
At  three  o'clock  this  afternoon,  in  a  beautiful  parlor  in 
Philadelphia — a  parlor  pictured  and  statuetted — there  will 
be  from  ten  to  twenty  destitute  children  of  the  street. 
It  has  been  so  every  Sabbath  afternoon  at  three  o'clock 
for  sixteen  years.  These  destitute  children  receive  re- 
ligious instruction,  concluding  with  cakes  and  sand- 
wiches. How  do  I  know  that  that  has  been  going  on 
for  sixteen  years?  1  know  it  in  this  way.  That  was  the 
first  home  in  Philadelphia  where  I  was  called  to  comfort 
a  great  sorrow.  They  had  a  splendid  boy,  and  he  had 
been  drowned  at  Long  Branch.  The  father  and  mother 
almost  idolized  the  boy,  and  the  sob  and  shriek  of  that 
father  and  mother  as  they  hung  over  the  coffin  resound 
in  my  ears  to-day.  There  seemed  to  be  no  use  of  pray- 
ing, for  when  I  knelt  down  to  pray,  the  outcry  in  the 
room  drowned  out  all  the  prayer.  But  the  Lord  com- 
forted that  sorrow.  They  did  not  forget  their  trouble. 
If  you  should  go  this  snowy  afternoon  into  Laurel  Hill, 
you  would  find  a  monument  with  the  word  "Walter" 
inscribed  upon  it,  and  a  wreath  of  fresh  flowers 
around  the  name.    I  think  there  has  not  been  an  hour 


250 


THE  MIDNIGHT  HORSEMAN". 


in  sixteen  years,  winter  or  summer,  when  there  was  not 
a  wreath  of  fresh  flowers  around  Walter's  name.  But 
the  Christian  mother  who  sends  those  flowers  there,  hav- 
ing no  child  left,  Sabbath  afternoons  mothers  ten  or 
twenty  of  the  lost  ones  of  the  street.  That  is  beautiful 
That  is  what  I  call  busy  and  triumphant  sadness.  Here 
is  a  man  who  has  lost  his  property.  He  does  not  go  to 
hard  drinking.  He  does  not  destroy  his  own  life.  He 
comes  and  says,  "Harness  me  for  Christian  work.  My 
money's  gone.  I  have  no  treasures  on  earth.  I  want 
treasures  in  heaven.  I  have  a  voice  and  a  heart  to  serve 
God."  You  say  that  that  man  has  failed.  He  has  not 
failed — he  has  triumphed.  Oh,  I  wish  I  could  persuade 
all  the  people  who  have  any  kind  of  trouble  never  to 
give  up.  I  wish  they  would  look  at  the  midnight  rider 
of  the  text,  and  that  the  four  hoofs  of  that  beast  on 
which  Nehemiah  rode  might  cut  to  pieces  all  your  dis- 
couragements, and  hardships,  and  trials.  Give  up! 
Who  is  going  to  give  up,  when  on  the  bosom  of  God  he 
can  have  all  his  troubles  hushed?  Give  up!  Never 
think  of  giving  up.  Are  you  borne  down  with  poverty? 
A  little  child  was  found  holding  her  dead  mother's  hand 
in  the  darkness  of  a  tenement-house,  and  some  one  com- 
ing in,  the  little  girl  looked  up,  while  holding  her  dead 
mother's  hand,  and  said:  "Oh,  I  do  wish  that  God  had 
made  more  light  for  poor  folks."  My  dear,  God  will  be 
your  light,  God  will  be  your  shelter,  God  will  be  your 
home.  Are  you  borne  down  with  the  bereavements  of 
life?  Is  the  house  lonely  now  that  the  child  is  gone? 
Do  not  give  up.  Think  of  what  the  old  sexton  said 
when  the  minister  asked  him  why  he  put  so  much  care 
on  the  little  graves,  in  the  cemetery — so  much  more  care 
than  on  the  larger  graves,  and  the  old  sexton  said  "Sir, 
you  know  that  'of  such  is  the  kingdom  of  heaven,'  and 


THE  MIDNIGHT  HORSEMAN.  251 

I  think  the  Savior  is  pleased  when  He  sees  so  much 
white  clover  growing  around  these  little  graves."  But 
when  the  minister  pressed  the  old  sexton  for  a  more  sat- 
isfactory answer,  the  old  sexton  said:  "Sir,  about  these 
*  larger  graves,  I  doirt  know  who  are  the  Lord's  saints 
and  who  are  not;  but  you  know,  sir,  it  is  clean  different 
with  the  bairns."  Oh,  if  you  have  had  that  keen,  ten- 
der, indescribable  sorrow  that  comes  from  the  loss  of  a 
child,  do  not  give  up.  The  old  sexton  was  right.  It  is 
all  well  with  the  bairns.  Or,  if  you  have  sinned,  if  you 
have  sinned  grievously — sinned  until  you  have  been  cast 
out  by  the  Church,  sinned  until  you  have  been  cast  out 
by  society,  do  not  give  up.  Perhaps  there  may  be  in 
this  house  one  that  could  truthfully  utter  the  lamenta- 
tion of  another: 

"Once  I  was  pure  as  the  snow,  but  I  fell — 
Fell  like  a  snowflake,  from  heaven  to  hell — 
Fell,  to  be  trampled  as  filth  in  the  street — 
Fell,  to  be  scoffed  at,  spit  on,  and  beat; 
Praying,  cursing,  wishing  to  die. 
Selling  my  soul  to  whoever  would  buy, 
Dealing  in  shame  for  a  morsel  of  bread, 
Hating  the  living,  and  fearing  the  dead." 

Do  not  give  up.  One  like  unto  the  Son  of  God  comes 
to  you  to-day,  saying,  "Go  and  sin  no  more;"  while  He 
cries  out  to  your  assailants,  "Let  him  that  is  without  sin 
cast  the  first  stone  at  her."  Oh!  there  is  no  reason  why 
any  one  in  this  house,  by  reason  of  any  trouble  or  sin, 
should  give  up.  Are  you  a  foreigner,  and  in  a  strange 
]and?  jNTehemiah  was  an  exile.  Are  you  penniless? 
Kehemiah  was  poor.  Are  you  homesick?  Nehemiah 
was  homesick.  Are  you  broken-hearted?  Nehemiah 
was  broken-hearted.  But  just  see  him  in  the  text,  riding 
along  the  sacrileged  grave  of  his  father,  and  by  the 


252 


THE  MIDNIGHT  HORSEMAN. 


dragon  well,  and  through  the  fish  gate,  and  by  the  king's 
pool,  in  and  out,  in  and  out,  the  moonlight  falling  on 
the  broken  masonry,  which  throws  a  long  shadow  at 
which  the  horse  shies,  and  at  the  same  time  that  moon- 
light kindling  up  the  features  of  this  man  till  you  see 
not  only  the  mark  of  sad  reminiscence,  but  the  courage 
the  hope,  the  enthusiasm  of  a  man  who  knows  that  Jeru- 
salem will  be  rebuilded.  I  pick  you  up  to-day,  out  oi 
your  sins  and  out  of  your  sorrow,  and  I  put  you  against 
the  warm  heart  of  Christ.  "The  eternal  God  is  thy 
refuge,  and  underneath  are  the  everlasting  arms." 


r  ONCE  WAS  PITCHED  OUT  OF  THAT  GROG  SHOP. 


TEAPS  FOE  MEN. 


254 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

TRAPS  FOR  MEN. 

"  Surely  in  vain  is  the  net  spread  in  the  sight  of  any  bird."— 
Proverbs  vi ;  9. 

Early  in  the  morning  I  went  out  with  a  fowler  to 
catch  wild  pigeons.  We  hastened  through  the  mountain 
gorge  and  into  the  forest.  We  spread  out  the  net,  and 
covered  up  the  edges  of  it  as  well  as  we  could.  We 
arranged  the  call-bird,  its  feet  fast,  and  its  wings  flap- 
ping in  invitation  to  all  fowls  of  heaven  to  settle  down 
there.  We  retired  into  a  booth  of  branches  and  leaves 
and  waited.  After  a  while,  looking  out  of  the  door  of 
the  booth,  we  saw  a  flock  of  birds  in  the  sky.  They 
came  nearer  and  nearer,  and  after  a  while  were  about  to 
swoop  into  the  net,  when  suddenly  they  darted  away. 
Again  we  waited.  After  awhile  we  saw  another  flock  of 
birds.  Theyrcame  nearer  and  nearer  until  just  at  the 
moment  when  they  were  about  to  swoop  they  darted 
away.  The  fowler  was  very  much  disappointed  as  well 
as  myself.  We  said  to  each  other,  u  What  is  the  matter?" 
and  "  Why  were  not  these  birds  caught?"  We  went  out 
and  examined  the  net,  and  by  a  flutter  of  a  branch  of  a 
tree  part  of  the  net  had  been  conspicuously  exposed, 
and  the  birds  coming  very  near  had  seen  their  peril  and. 
darted  away.  When  I  saw  that,  I  said  to  the  old  fowler, 
"That  reminds  me  of  a  passage  of  Scripture:  '  Surely  in 
vain  is  the  net  spread  in  the  sight  of  any  bird.'  "  Now 
the  net  in  my  text  stands  for  temptation. 


254 


TRAPS  FOR  MEN. 


Thecal] -bird  of  sin  tempts  men  on  from  point  to  point 
and  from  branch  to  branch  until  they  are  about  to  drop 
into  the  net.  If  a  man  finds  out  in  time  that  it  is  the 
temptation  of  the  devil,  or  that  evil  men  are  attempting 
to  capture  his  soul  for  time  and  for  eternity 9  the  man 
steps  back,  lie  says,  u  I  am  not  to  be  caught  in  that 
way:  I  see  what  you  are  about:  surely  in  vain  is  the 
net  spread  in  the  sight  of  any  bird." 

There  are  two  classes  of  temptations — the  superficial 
and  the  subterraneous — those  above  ground,  those  under 
ground.  If  a  man  could  see  sin  as  it  is,  he  would  no 
more  embrace  it  than  lie  would  embrace  a  leper.  Sin  is 
a  daughter  of  hell,  yet  she  is  garlanded  and  robed  and 
trinketed.  Her  voice  is  a  warble.  Her  cheek  is  the 
setting  sun.  Her  forehead  is  an  aurora.  She  says  to 
men:  "  Come,  walk  this  path  with  me;  it  is  thymed  and 
primrosed,  and  the  air  is  bewitched  with  the  odors  of 
the  hanging  gardens  of  heaven;  the  rivers  are  rivers  of 
wine,  and  all  yon  have  to  do  is  to  drink  them  up  in 
chalices  that  sparkle  with  diamond  and  amethyst  and 
crysoprasus.  See  !  It  is  all  bloom  and  roseate  cloud 
and  heaven."  Oh!  my  friends,  if  for  one  moment  the 
choiring  of  all  these  concerted  voices  of  sin  could  be 
hushed,  we  should  see  the  orchestra  of  the  pit  with  hot 
breath  blowing  through  fiery  flute,  and  the  skeleton  arms 
on  drums  of  thunder  and  darkness  beating  the  chorus: 
k>  The  end  thereof  is  death." 

I  want  this  morning  to  point  out  the  insidious  temp- 
tations that  are  assailing  more  especially  our  young  men. 
The  only  kind  of  nature  comparatively  free  from  tempta- 
tion, so  far  as  I  can  judge,  is  the  cold,  hard,  stingy,  mean 
temperament.  What  would  Satan  do  with  such  a  man 
if  he  got  him  ?  Satan  is  not  anxious  to  get  a  man  who, 
after  a  while,  may  dispute  with  him  the  realm  of  ever- 


TRAPS  FOR  MEN. 


255 


lasting  meanness.  It  is  the  generous  young  man,  the 
ardent  young  man,  the  warm-hearted  young  man,  the 
social  young  man,  that  is  in  especial  peril.  A  pirate  goes 
out  on  the  sea,  and  one  bright  morning  he  puts  the  glass 
to  his  eye  and  looks  off,  and  sees  an  empty  vessel  floating 
from  port  to  port.  He  says:  "Never  mind;  that's  no 
prize  for  us."  But  the  same  morning  lie  puts  the  glass 
to  his  eye,  and  he  sees  a  vessel  coming  from'Australia  laden 
with  gold,  or  a  vessel  from  the  Indies  laden  with  spices. 
He  says:  ''That's  our  prize;  bear  down  on  it!"  Across 
that  unfortunate  ship  the  grappling-hooks  are  thrown. 
The  crew  are  blindfolded  and  are  compelled  to  walk  the 
plank.  It  is  not  the  empty  vessel,  but  the  laden  merchant- 
man that  is  the  temptation  to  the  pirate.  And  a  young 
man  empty  of  head,  empty  of  heart,  empty  of  life — you 
want  no  Young  Men's  Christian  Association  to  keep  him 
safe;  he  is  safe.  He  will  not  gamble  unless  it  is  with  some- 
body else's  stakes.  He  will  not  break  the  Sabbath  unless 
somebody  else  pays  the  horse  hire.  He  will  not  drink 
unless  some  one  else  treats  him.  He  will  hang  around 
the  bar.  hour  after  hour,  waiting  for  some  generous  young 
man  to  come  in.  The  generous  young  man  comes  in 
and  accosts  him  and  says:  "  Well,  will  you  have  a  drink 
with  me  to-day  V  The  man,  as  though  it  were  a  sudden 
thing  for  him,  says:  "Well,  well,  if  you  insist  on  it  I 
will— I  will." 

Too  mean  to  go  to  perdition  unless  somebody  else 
pays  his  expenses!  For  such  young  men  we  will  not 
tight.  We  would  no  more  contend  for  them  than  Tartary 
and  Ethiopia  would  fight  as  to  who  should  have  the  great 
Sahara  Desert;  but  for  those  young  men  who  arc 
buoyant  and  enthusiastic,  those  who  are  determined  to 
do  something  for  time  and  for  eternity — for  them  we 
will  tight,  and  we  now  declare  everlasting  war  against 


256 


TRAPS  FOR  MEN. 


all  the  influences  that  assail  them,  and  we  ask  all  good 
men  and  philanthropists  to  wheel  into  line,  and  all  the 
armies  of  Heaven  to  bear  down  upon  the  foe,  and  we  pray 
Almighty  God  that  with  the  thunderbolts  of  his  wrath 
he  will  strike  down  and  consume  all  these  influences^ that 
are  attempting  to  destroy  the  young  men  for  whom 
Christ  died. 

The  first  class  of  temptations  that  assaults  a  young  man 
is  led  on  by  the  skeptic.  He  will  not  admit  he  is  an 
infidel  or  atheist.  Oh,  no!  he  is  a  "freethinker;"  he  is 
one  of  your  "liberal"  men;  he  is  free  and  easy  in 
religion.  O!  how  liberal  he  is;  he  so  "liberal"  that  he 
will  give  away  his  Bible;  he  is  so  "liberal  "  that  he  will 
give  away  the  throne  of  eternal  justice;  he  is  so  "liberal" 
that  he  would  be  willing  to  give  God  out  of  the  universe; 
he  is  so  "liberal  "  that  he  would  give  up  his  own  soul 
and  the  souls  of  all  his  friends.  Now,  what  more  could 
you  ask  in  the  way  of  liberality?  The  victim  of  this 
skeptic  has  probably  just  come  from  the  country. 
Through  the  intervention  of.  friends  he  has  been  placed 
in  a  shop.  On  Saturday  the  skeptic  says  to  him,  •"Well, 
what  are  you  going  to  do  to-morrow?"  He  says,  "  I  am 
going  to  church."  "Is  it  possible?"  says  the  skeptic, 
"  Well,  I  used  to  do  those  things;  I  was  brought  up,  I 
suppose,  as  you  were,  in  a  religious  family,  and  I  be- 
lieved all  those  things,  but  I  got  over  it;  the  fact  is,  since 
I  came  to  town  I  have  read  a  great  deal,  and  I  have 
found  that  there  are  a  great  many  things  in  the  Bible 
that  are  ridiculous.  Now,  for  instance,  all  that  about 
the  serpent  being  cursed  to  crawl  in  the  garden  of  Eden 
because  it  had  tempted  our  first  parents;  why  you  see 
how  absurd  it  is ;  you  can  tell  from  the  very  organiza- 
tion of  the  serpent  that  it  had  to  crawl;  it  crawled  before 
it  was  cursed  just  as  well  as  it  crawled  afterwards;  you. 


TRA  PS  FOR  MEN. 


25T 


can  tell  from  its  organization  that  it  crawled.  Then  all 
that  story  about  the  whale  swallowing  Jonah,  or  Jonah 
swallowing  the  whale,  which  was  it?  It  don't  make  any 
difference,  the  thing  is  absurd;  it  is  ridiculous  to  sup- 
pose that  a  man  could  have  gone  down  through  the  jaws 
of  a  sea  monster  and  yet  kept  his  life;  why,  his  respira- 
tion would  have  been  hindered;  he  would  have  been 
digested;  the  gastric  juice  would  have  dissolved  the 
fibrine  and  coagulated  albumen,  and  Jonah  would  have 
been  changed  from  prophet  into  chyle.  Then  all  that 
story  about  the  miraculous  conception — why,  it  is  per- 
fectly disgraceful.  O!  sir,  I  believe  in  the  light  of 
nature.  This  is  the  nineteenth  century.  Progress,  sir, 
progress.  I  don't  blame  you,  but  after  you  have  been  in 
town  as  long  as  I  have,  you  will  think  just  as  I  do." 

Thousands  of  young  men  are  going  down  under  that 
process  day  by  day,  and  there  is  only  here  and  there  a 
young  man  who  can  endure  this  artillery  of  scorn.  They 
are  giving  up  their  Bibles.  The  light  of  nature!  They 
have  the  light  of  nature  in  China;  they  have  it  in  Iiin- 
dostan;  they  have  it  in  Ceylon.  Flowers  there,  stars 
there,  waters  there,  winds  there;  but  no  civilization,  no 
homes,  no  happiness.  Lancets  to  cut,  and  Juggernauts 
to  fall  under,  and  hooks  to  swing  on;  but  no  happiness. 
I  tell  you,  my  young  brother,  wTe  have  to  take  a  religion 
of  some  kind.  We  have  to  choose  between  four  or  five. 
Shall  it  be  the  Koran  of  the  Mohammedan,  or  the 
Shaster  of  the  Hindoo,  or  the  Zendavesta  of  the  Persian, 
or  the  Confucius  writings  of  the  Chinese,  or  the  Holy 
Scriptures?  Take  what  you  will;  God  helping  me,  I  will 
take  the  Bible.  Light  for  ail  darkness;  rock  for  all 
foundation;  balm  for  all  wounds.  A  glory  that  lifts  its 
pillars  of  fire  over  the  wilderness  march.  Do  not  give 
up  your  Bibles.  If  these  people  scoff  at  you  as  though 
17 


258 


TRAPS  FOR  MEN. 


religion  and  the  Bible  were  fit  only  fur  weak-minded 
people,  you  just  tell  them  you  are  not  ashamed  to  be  in 
the  company  of  Burke  the  statesman,  and  Raphael  the 
painter,  and  Thorwaldsen  the  sculptor,  and  Mozart  the 
musician,  and  Blackstone  the  lawyer,  and  Bacon  the 
philosopher,  and  Harvey  the  physician,  and  John 
Milton  the  poet.  Ask  them  what  infidelity  has  ever 
done  to  lift  the  fourteen  hundred  millions  of  the  race 
out  of  barbarism.  Ask  them  when  infidelity  ever  insti- 
tuted a  sanitary  commission;  and,  before  you  leave  their 
society  once  and  for  ever,  tell  them  that  they  have  in- 
sulted the  memory  of  your  Christian  father,  and  spit 
upon  the  death-bed  of  your  mother,  and  with  swine's 
snout  rooted  up  the  grave  of  your  sister  who  died  believ- 
ing in  the  Lord  Jesus. 

Young  man,  hold  on  to  your  Bible?  It  is  the  best 
book  you  ever  owned.  It  will  tell  you  how  to  dress,  how 
to  bargain,  how  to  walk,  how  to  act,  how  to  live,  how  to 
die.  Glorious  Bible!  whether  on  parchment  or  paper, 
in  octavo  or  duodecimo,  on  the  center  table  of  the  draw- 
ing-room or  in  the  counting-room  of  the  banker.  Glo- 
rious Bible!  Light  to  our  feet  and  lamp  to  our  path. 
Hold  on  to  it! 

The  second  class  of  insidious  temptations  that  comes 
upon  our  young  men  is  led  on  by  the  dishonest  employer. 
Every  commercial  establishment  is  a  school.  In  nine 
cases  out  of  ten,  the  principles  of  the  employer  become 
the  principles  of  the  employe.  I  ask  the  older  mer- 
chants to  bear  me  out  in  these  statements.  If,  when  you 
were  just  starting  in  life,  in  commercial  life,  you  were 
told  that  honesty  was  not  marketable,  that  though  you 
might  sell  all  the  goods  in  the  shop,  you  must  not  sell 
your  conscience,  that  while  you  were  to  exercise  all 
industry  and  tact,  you  were  not  to  sell  your  conscience — 


TRAPS  FOR  MEN. 


259 


if  yon  were  taught  that  gains  gotten  by  sin  were  com- 
bustible, and  at  the  moment  of  ignition  would  be  blown 
on  by  the  breath  of  God  until  all  the  splendid  estate 
would  vanish  into  white  ashes  scattered  in  the  whirl- 
wind— then  that  instruction  has  been  to  you  a  precaution 
and  a  help  ever  since.  There  are  hundreds  of  commer- 
cial establishments  in  our  great  cities  which  are  edu- 
cating a  class  of  young  men  who  will  be  the  honor  of 
the  land,  and  there  are  other  establishments  which  are 
educating  young  men  to  be  nothing  but  sharpers,  What 
chance  is  there  for  a  young  man  who  was  taught  in  an 
establishment  that  it  is  right  to  lie,  if  it  is  smart,  and 
that  a  French  label  is  all  that  is  necessary  to  make  a  thing 
French,  and  that  you  ought  always  to  be  honest  when  it 
pays,  and  that  it  is  wrong  to  steal  unless  you  do  it  well? 
Suppose,  now,  a  young  man  just  starting  in  life  enters  a 
place  of  that  kind  where  there  are  ten  young  men,  all 
drilled  in  the  infamous  practices  of  the  establishment. 
He  is  ready  to  be  taught.  The  young  man  has  no  theory 
of  commercial  ethics.  Where  is  he  to  get  his  theory? 
He  will  get  the  theory  from  his  employers.  One  day  he 
pushes  his  wit  a  little  beyond  what  the  establishment 
demands  of  him,  and  he  fleeces  a  customer  until  the 
clerk  is  on  the  verge  of  being  seized  by  the  law.  What 
is  done  in  the  establishment?  He  is  not  arraigned. 
The  head  man  of  the  establishment  says  to  him:  "Now, 
be  careful;  be  careful,  young  man,  you  might  be  caught; 
but  really  that  was  splendidly  done;  you  will  get  along 
in  the  world,  I  warrant  you."  Then  that  young  man 
goes  up  until  he  becomes  head  clerk.  He  has  found 
there  is  a  premium  on  iniquity. 

One  morning  the  employer  comes  to  the  establishment. 
He  goes  into  his  counting-room  and  throws  up  his  hands 
end  shouts:  "Why,  the  safe  has  been  robbed!"  What 


260 


TRAPS  FOR  MEN. 


is  the  matter?  Nothing,  nothing;  only  the  clerk  who 
had  been  practicing  a  good  while  on  customers  is  prac- 
ticing a  little  on  the  employer.  No  new  principle  intro- 
duced into  that  establishment.  It  is  a  poor  rule  that 
will  not  work  both  ways.  You  must  never  steal  unless 
you  can  do  it  well.  He  did  it  well.  I  am  not  talking 
an  abstraction ;  I  am  talking  a  terrible  and  a  crushing 
fact. 

Now  here  is  a  young  man.  Look  at  him  to-day. 
Look  at  him  five  years  from  now,  after  he  has  been 
under  trial  in  such  an  establishment.  Here  he  stands 
in  the  shop  to-day,  his  cheeks  ruddy  with  the  breath  of 
the  hills.  He  unrolls  the  goods  on  the  counter  in  gen- 
tlemanly style.  He  commends  them  to  the  purchaser. 
He  points  out  all  the  good  points  in  the  fabric.  He 
effects  the  sale.  The  goods  are  wrapped  up,  and  he  dis- 
misses the  customer  with  a  cheerful  ugood  morning," 
and  the  country  merchant  departs  so  impressed  with  the 
straightforwardness  of  that  young  man  that  he  will  come 
again  and  again,  every  spring  and  every  autumn  unless 
interfered  with.  The  young  man  has  been  now  in  that 
establishment  five  years.  He  unrolls  the  goods  on  the 
counter.  He  says  to  the  customer,  "Now  those  are  the 
best  goods  we  have  in  our  establishment;"  they  have  bet- 
ter on  the  next  shelf.  He  says:  uWe  are  selling  these 
goods  less  than  cost;"  they  are  making  twenty  percent. 
He  says:  "There  is  nothing  like  them  in  all  the  city;" 
there  are  fifty  shops  that  want  to  sell  the  same  thing. 
He  says:  "Now,  that  is  a  durable  article,  it  will  wash;" 
yes,  it  will  wash  out.  The  sale  is  made,  the  goods  are 
wrapped  up,  the  country  merchant  goes  off  feeling  that 
he  has  an  equivalent  for  his  money,  and  the  sharp  clerk 
goes  into  the  private  room  of  the  counting-house,  and 
he  says:  "Well,  I  got  rid  of  those  goods  at  last;  I  really 


TRAPS  FOR  MEN. 


261 


thought  we  never  would  sell  them;  I  told  him  we  were 
selling  them  less  than  cost,  and  lie  thought  he  was 
getting  a  good  bargain;  got  rid  of  them  at  last."  And 
the  head  of  the  firm  sa3rs:  "That's  well  done,  splendidly 
done;  let's  go  over  to  Delmonico's."  Meanwhile,  God 
had  recorded  eight  lies — four  lies  against  the  young  man, 
four  lies  against  his  employer,  for  I  undertake  to  say  that 
the  employer  is  responsible  for  all  the  iniquities  of  his 
clerks,  and  all  the  iniquities  of  those  who  are  clerks  of 
these  clerks,  down  to  the  tenth  generation,  if  those  em- 
ployers inculcated  iniquitous  and  damning  principles.  I 
stand  before  young  men  this  morning  who  are  under  this 
pressure.  I  say,  come  out  of  it.  "Oh!"  you  say,  "I 
can't;  I  have  my  widowed  mother  to  support,  and  if  a 
man  loses  a  situation  now  he  can't  get  another  one."  I 
say,  come  out  of  it.  Go  home  to  your  mother  and  say 
to  her,  "Mother,  I  can't  stay  in  that  shop  and  be  upright; 
what  shall  I  do?"  and  if  she  is  worthy  of  you  she  will 
say,  "Come  out  of  it,  my  son — we  will  just  throw  our- 
selves on  him  who  hath  promised  to  be  the  God  of  the 
widow  and  the  fatherless;  he  will  take  care  of  us."  And 
I  tell  you  no  young  man  ever  permanently  suffered  by 
such  ;i  course  of  conduct,  In  Philadelphia,  in  a  drug 
shop,  ;i  young  man  said  to  his  employer:  "I  want  to 
please  you,  really,  and  I  am  willing  to  sell  medicines  on 
Sunday;  but  I  can't  sell  this  patent  shoe-blacking  on 
Sunday."  "Well,"  said  the  head  man,  "you  will  have 
to  do  it,  or  else  you  will  have  to  go  away/'  The  young 
man  said:  "I  can't  do  it;  I  am  willing  to  sell  medicines, 
but  not  shoe-blacking."  "Well,  then,  go!  Go  now." 
The  young  man  went  away.  The  Lord  looked  after  him. 
The  hundreds  of  thousands  of  dollars  he  won  in  this 
world  were  the  smallest  part  of  his  fortune.  God  hon- 
ored him.     By  the  course  he  took  he  saved  his  soul  as 


262 


TRAPS  FOR  MEN. 


well  as  his  fortunes  in  the  future.  A  man  said  to  his 
employer:  "I  can't  wash  the  wagon  on  Sunday  morning; 
I  am  willing  to  wash  it  on  Saturday  afternoon;  but,  sir. 
you  will  please  excuse  me,  I  can't  wash  the  wagon  on 
Sunday  morning."  His  employer  said:  "You  must 
wash  it;  my  carriage  comes  in  every  Saturday  night,  and 
you  have  got  to  wash  it  on  Sunday  morning."  "I  can't 
do  it,"  the  man  said.  They  parted.  The  Lord  looked 
after  him,  grandly  looked  after  him.  He  is  worth  to-day 
a  hundred-fold  more  than  his  employer  ever  was  or  ever 
will  be,  and  he  saved  his  soul.  Young  man,  it  is  safe  to 
do  right.  There  are  young  men  in  this  house  to-day 
who,  under  this  storm  of  temptation,  are  striking  deeper 
and  deeper  their  roots,  and  spreading  out  broader  their 
branches.  They  are  Daniels  in  Babylon,  they  are  Josephs 
in  the  Egyptian  court,  they  are  Pauls  amid  the  wild 
beasts  at  Ephesus.  I  preach  to  encourage  them.  Lay 
hold  of  God  and  be  faithful. 

There  is  a  mistake  we  make  about  young  men.  We 
put  them  in  two  classes:  the  one  class  is  moral,  the  other 
is  dissolute.  The  moral  are  safe.  The  dissolute  cannot 
be  reclaimed.  I  deny  both  propositions.  The  moral  are 
not  safe  unless  they  have  laid  hold  of  God,  and  the  dis- 
solute may  be  reclaimed.  I  suppose  there  are  self- 
righteous  men  in  this  house  who  feel  no  need  of  God, 
and  will  not  seek  after  him,  and  they  will  go  out  in  the 
world  and  they  will  be  tempted,  and  they  will  be  flung 
down  by  misfortune,  and  they  will  go  down,  down,  down, 
until  some  night  you  will  see  them  going  home  hooting, 
raving,  shouting  blasphemy — going  home  to  their  mother? 
going  home  to  their  sister,  going  home  to  the  young 
companion  to  whom,  only  a  little  while  ago,  in  the  pres- 
ence of  a  brilliant  assemblage,  flashing  lights  and  orange 
blossoms,  and  censers  swinging  in  the  air,  they  promised 


TRAPS  FOR  MEN. 


263 


fidelity  and  parity,  and  kindness  perpetual.  As  that 
man  reaches  the  door,  she  will  open  it,  not  with  an  out- 
cry, but  she  will  stagger  back  from  the  door  as  he  comes 
in,  and  in  her  look  there  will  be  the  prophecy  of  woes 
that  are  coming:  want  that  will  shiver  in  need  of  a  fire, 
hunger  that  will  cry  in  vain  for  bread,  cruelties  that  will 
not  leave  the  heart  when  they  have  crushed  it,  but  pinch 
it  again,  and  stab  it  again,  until  some  night  she  will  open 
the  door  of  the  place  where  her  companion  was  ruined, 
and  she  will  fling  out  her  arm  from  under  her  ragged 
shawl  and  say,  with  almost  omnipotent  eloquence,  "Give 
me  back  my  husband!  Give  me  back  my  protector! 
Give  me  back  my  all!  Him  of  the  kind  heart  and  gentle 
wTords,  and  the  manly  brow — give  him  back  to  me!" 
And  then  the  wretches,  obese  and  filthy,  will  push  back 
their  matted  locks,  and  they  will  say,  uPut  her  out! 
Put  her  out!"  Oh!  self-righteous  man,  without  God 
you  are  in  peril.  Seek  after  him  to-day.  Amid  the  ten 
thousand  temptations  of  life  there  is  no  safety  for  a  man 
without  God. 

But  I  may  be  addressing  some  who  have  gone  astray, 
and  so  I  assault  that  other  proposition  that  the  dissolute 
cannot  be  reclaimed.  Perhaps  you  have  only  gone  a 
little  astray.  While  I  speak  are  you  troubled?  Is  there 
a  voice  within  you  saying,  "  What  did  you  do  that  for? 
Why  did  you  go  there  ?  What  did  you  mean  by  that  ?" 
Is  there  a  memory  in  your  soul  that  makes  you  tremble 
this  morning?  God  only  knows  all  our  hearts.  Yea, 
if  you  have  gone  so  far  as  to  commit  iniquities,  and  have 
gone  through  the  whole  catalogue,  I  invite  you  back 
this  morning.  The  Lord  waits  for  you.  "  Rejoice! 
O  young  man,  in  thy  youth,  and  let  thy  heart  cheer 
thee  in  the  days  of  thy  youth  ;  but  know  thou  that  for 
all  these  things  God  will  bring  thee  into  judgment." 


264 


TRAPS  FOR  MEN. 


Come  home,  young  man,  to  your  father's  God.  Come 
home,  young  man,  to  your  mother's  God.  O!  I  wish 
that  all  the  batteries  of  the  Gospel  could  to-day  be  un- 
limbered  against  all  those  influences  which  are  taking 
down  so  many  of  our  young  men.  I  would  like  to  blow 
a  trumpet  of  warning,  and  recruit  until  this  whole 
audience  would  march  out  on  a  crusade  against  the  evils 
of  society.  But  let  none  of  us  be  disheartened.  O! 
Christian  workers,  my  heart  is  high  with  hope.  The 
dark  horizon  is  blooming  into  the  morning  of  which 
prophets  spoke,  and  of  which  poets  have  dreamed,  and 
of  which  painters  have  sketched.  The  world's  bridal 
hour  advances.  The  mountains  will  kiss  the  morniug 
radiant  and  effulgent,  and  all  the  waves  of  the  sea  will 
become  the  crystal  keys  of  a  great  organ,  on  which  the 
fingers  of  everlasting  joy  shall  play  the  grand  march  of 
a  world  redeemed.  Instead  of  the  thorn  there  shall  come 
up  the  fir  tree,  and  instead  of  the  briar  there  shall  come 
up  the  myrtle  tree,  and  the  mountains  and  the  hills  shall 
break  forth  into  singing,  and  all  the  trees  of  the  wood 
shall  clap  their  hands! 


STRANGERS  WARNEIX 


265 


CHAPTER  XX. 

STRANGERS  WARNED. 

"And  Solomon  numbered  all  the  strangers  that  were  in  the  land  of 
Israel."— 2  Chron.  ii :  17. 

If,  in  the  time  when  people  traveled  afoot  or  on  camel- 
back,  and  vacillation  from  city  to  city  was  seldom,  it  was 
important  that  Solomon  recognize  the  presence  of  stran- 
gers, how  much  more  important,  now  in  these  days,  when 
by  railroad  and  steamboat  the  population  of  the  earth 
are  always  in  motion,  and  from  one  years  end  to  the 
other,  our  cities  are  crowded  with  visitors.  Every  morn- 
ing, on  the  Hudson  River  railroad  track,  there  come  in, 
I  think,  about  six  trains,  and  on  the  New  Jersey  railroad 
track  some  thirteen  passenger  trains  ;  so  that  all  the 
depots  and  the  wharves  are  a-rumble  and  a-clang  with 
the  coming  iu  of  a  great  immigration  of  strangers. 
Some  of  them  come  for  purposes  of  barter,  some  for 
mechanism,  some  for  artistic  gratification,  some  for  sight- 
seeing. A  great  many  of  them  go  out  on  the  evening 
trains,  and  consequently  the  city  makes  but  little  im- 
pression upon  them;  but  there  are  multitudes  who,  in 
the  hotels  and  boarding-houses,  make  temporary  resi- 
dence. They  tarry  here  for  three  or  four  days,  or  as 
many  weeks.  They  spend  the  days  in  the  stores  and  the 
evenings  in  sight-seeing.  Their  temporary  stay  will 
make  or  break  them,  not  only  financially  but  morally, 
for  this  world  and  the  world  that  is  to  come.  Multitudes 
of  them  come  into  our  morning  and  evening  services. 
I  am  conscious  that  I  stand  in  the  presence  of  many 


:266 


STRANGERS  WARNED. 


of  them  now.  I  desire  more  especially  to  speak  to 
them.  May  God  give  me  the  right  word  and  help  me  to 
utter  it  in  the  right  way. 

There  have  glided  into  this  house  those  unknown  to 
others,  whose  history,  if  told,  would  be  more  thrilling 
than  the  deepest  tragedy,  more  exciting  than  Nilsson's 
song,  more  bright  than  a  spring  morning,  more  awful 
than  a  wintry  midnight.  If  they  could  stand  up  here 
and  tell  the  story  of  their  escapes,  and  their  temptations, 
and  their  bereavements,  and  their  disasters,  and  their 
victories,  and  their  defeats,  there  would  be  in  this  house 
such  a  commingling  of  groans  and  acclamations  as  would 
make  the  place  unendurable. 

There  is  a  man  who,  in  infancy,  lay  in  a  cradle  satin- 
lined.  There  is  a  man  who  was  picked  up,  a  foundling, 
on  Boston  Common.  Here  is  a  man  who  is  coolly  ob- 
serving this  day's  service,  expecting  no  advantage,  and 
caring  for  no  advantage  for  himself  ;  while  yonder 
is  a  man  who  has  been  for  ten  years  in  an  awful  confla- 
gration of  evil  habits,  and  he  is  a  mere  cinder  of  a 
destroyed  nature,  and  he  is  wondering  if  there  shall  be 
in  this  service  any  escape  or  help  for  his  immortal  soul. 
Meeting  you  only  once,  perhaps,  face  to  face,  I  strike 
hands  with  you  in  an  earnest  talk  about  your  present 
condition,  and  your  eternal  well-being.  St.  Paul's  ship 
at  Melita  went  to  pieces  where  two  seas  meet ;  but  we 
stand  to-day  at  a  point  where  a  thousand  seas  converge, 
and  eternity  alone  can  tell  the  issue  of  the  hour. 

The  hotels  of  this  country,  for  beauty  and  elegance, 
are  not  surpassed  by  the  hotels  in  any  other  land  ;  but 
those  that  are  most  celebrated  for  brilliancy  of  tapestry 
and  mirror  cannot  give  to  the  guest  any  costly  apart- 
ment, unless  he  can  afford  a  parlor  in  addition  to  his 
lodging.    The  stranger,  therefore,  will  generally  find  as- 


STRANGERS  WARNED.  267 

signed  to  him  a  room  without  any  pictures,  and  perhaps 
any  rocking  chair!  He  will  find  a  box  of  matches  on  a 
bureau  .and  an  old  newspaper  left  by  the  previous  occu- 
pant, and  that  will  be  about  all  the  ornamentation.  At 
seven  o'clock  in  the  evening,  after  having  taken  his  re- 
past, he  will  look  over  his  memorandum -book  of  the 
day's  work  ;  he  will  write  a  letter  to  his  home,  and  then 
a  desperation  will  seize  upon  him  to  get  out.  You  hear 
the  great  city  thundering  under  your  window.-,  and  you 
say:  "I  must  join  that  procession,"  and  in  ten  minutes 
you  have  joined  it.  Where  are  you  going?  "  Oh,"  you 
say,  "I  haven't  made  up  my  mind  yet."  Better  make 
up  your  mind  before  you  start.  Perhaps  the  very  way 
you  go  now  you  will  always  go.  Twenty  years  ago  there 
were  young  men  who  came  down  the  Astor  House  steps, 
and  started  out  in  a  wrong  direction,  where  they  have 
been  going  ever  since. 

"  Well,  where  are  you  going  ?"  says  one  man.  "  I 
am  going  to  the  Academy  to  hear  some  music."  Good. 
I  would  like  to  join  you  at  the  door.  At  the  tap  of  the 
orchestral  baton,  all  the  gates  of  harmony  and  beauty 
will  open  before  your  soul.  I  congratulate  you.  Where 
are  you  going  ?  "  Well,"  you  say,  "  I  am  going  up  to 
see  some  advertised  pictures."  Good.  1  should  iike  to- 
go  along  with  you  and  look  over  the  same  catalogue,  and 
study  with  you  Kensett,  and  Bierstadt,  and  Church,  and 
Moran.  Nothing  more  elevating  than  good  pictures. 
Where  are  you  going  ?  u  Well,"  you  say,  u  I  am  going 
up  to  the  Young  Men's  Christian  Association  rooms," 
Good.  You  will  find  there  gymnastics  to  strengthen 
the  muscles,  and  books  to  improve  the  mind,  and  Chris- 
tian influence  to  save  the  soul.  I  wish  every  city  in  the 
United  States  had  as  tine  a  palace  for  its  Young  Men's 
Christian  Association  as  New  York  has.    Where  rtra 


268 


STRANGERS  WAKNED. 


you  going  ?  u  Well,"  yon  say,  "  I  am  going  to  take  a 
long  walk  up  Broadway,  and  so  turn  around  into  the 
Bowery.  I  am  going  to  study  human  life.''  Good.  A 
walk  through  Broadway  at  eight  o'clock  at  night  is  inter- 
esting, educating,  fascinating,  appalling,  exhilarating  to 
the  last  degree.  Stop  in  front  of  that  theater,  and  see 
who  goes  in.  Stop  at  that  saloon,  and  see  who  comes 
out.  See  the  great  tides  of  life  surging  backward  and 
forward,  and  beating  against  the  marble  of  the  curbstone, 
and  eddying  down  into  the  saloons.  What  is  that  mark 
on  the  face  of  that  debauchee?  It  is  the  hectic  flush  of 
eternal  death.  What  is  that  Woman's  laughter  ?  It  is 
the  shriek  of  a  lost  soul.  Who  is  that  Christian  man 
going  along  with  a  phial  of  anodyne  to  the  dying  pauper 
on  Elm  street?  Who  is  that  belated  man  on  the  way  to 
a  prayer-meeting  ?  Who  is  that  city  missionary  going 
to  take  a  box  in  which  to  bury  a  child?  Who  are  all 
these  clusters  of  bright  and  beautiful  faces?  They  are 
going  to  some  interesting  place  of  amusement.  Who  is 
that  man  going  into  the  drug-store?  That  is  the  man 
who  yesterday  lost  all  his  fortune  on  Wall  street.  He 
is  going  in  for  a  dose  of  belladonna,  and  before  morning 
it  will  make  no  difference  to  him  whether  stocks  are  up 
or  down.  I  tell  you  that  Broadway,  between  seven  and 
twelve  o'clock  at  night,  between  the  Battery  and  Union- 
square,  is  an  Austerlitz,  a  Gettysburg,  a  Waterloo,  where 
kingdoms  are  lost  or  won,  and  three  worlds  mingle  in  the 
strife. 

I  meet  another  coining  down  off  the  hotel  steps,  and  I 
say:  "  Where  are  you  going?"  You  say:  "I  am 
going  with  a  merchant  of  New  York  who  has  promised 
to-night  to  show  me  the  underground  life  of  the  city.  I 
am  his  customer,  and  he  is  going  to  oblige  me  very 
much."    Stop!    A  business  house  that  tries  to  get  or 


ONLY  A  DRUNKARD. 


STRANGERS  WARNED. 


269 


keep  your  custom  through  such  a  process  as  that,  is  not 
worthy  of  you.  There  are  business  establishments  in 
our  cities  which  have  for  years  been  sending  to  eternal 
destruction  hundreds  and  thousands  of  merchants.  They 
have  a  secret  drawer  in  the  counter,  where  money  is  kept, 
and  the  clerk  goes  and  gets  it  when  he  wants  to  take 
these  visitors  to  the  city  through  the  low  slums  of  the 
place.  Shall  I  mention  the  names  of  some  of  these  great 
commercial  establishments?  I  have  them  on  my  lip. 
Shall  I  ?  Perhaps  I  had  better  leave  it  to  the  young 
men  who,  in  that  process,  have  been  destroyed  themselves 
while  they  have  been  destroying  others.  I  care  not  how 
high-sounding  the  name  of  a  commercial  establishment, 
if  it  proposes  to  get  customers  or  to  keep  them  by  such 
a  process  as  that;  drop  their  acquaintance.  They  will 
cheat  you  before  you  get  through.  They  will  send  to 
you  a  style  of  goods  different  from  that  which  you  bought 
by  sample.  They  will  give  you  under-weight.  There 
will  be  in  the  package  half-a-dozen  less  pairs  of  sus- 
penders than  you  paid  for.  They  will  rob  you.  Oh,  you 
feel  in  your  pockets  and  say:  "Is  my  money  gone  ?" 
They  have  robbed  you  of  something  for  which  pounds 
and  shillings  can  never  give  you  compensation.  When 
one  of  these  Western  merchants  has  been  dragged  by  one 
of  these  commercial  agents  through  the  slums  of  the 
city,  he  is  not  fit  to  go  home.  The  mere  memory  of 
what  he  has  seen  will  be  moral  pollution,  unless  he  go 
on  positive  Christian  errand.^  I  think  you  had  better 
let  the  city  missionary  and  the  police  and  the  Christian 
reformer  attend  to  the  exploration  of  New  York  and 
underground  life.  You  do  not  go  to  a  small-pox  hospital 
lor  the  purpose  of  exploration.  You  do  not  go  there, 
because  you  are  afraid  of  the  contagion.  And  yet,  you 
go  into  the  presence  of  a  moral  leprosy  that  is  as  much 


L>70 


STRANGERS  WARNED. 


more  dangerous  to  you  as  the  death  of  the  soul  is  worse 
than  the  death  of  the  body.    I  will  undertake  to  say  that 
nine-tenths  of  the  men  who  have  been  ruined  in  our  cities 
have  been  ruined  by  simply  going  to  observe  without 
any  idea  of  participating.    The  fact  is  that  underground 
city  life  is  a  filthy,  fuming,  reeking,  pestiferous  depth 
whicli  may  blast  the  eye  that  looks  at  it.    In  the  Heign 
of  Terror,  in  1792,  in  Paris,  people,  escaping  from  the 
officers  of  the  law,  got  into  the  sewers  of  the  city,  and 
crawled  and  walked  through  miles  of  that  awful  labyrinth, 
stifled  with  the  atmosphere  and  almost  dead,  some  of 
them,  when  they  came  out  to  the  river  Seine,  where  they 
washed  themselves  and  again  breathed  the  fresh  air. 
But  I  have  to  tell  you  that  a  great  many  of  the  men  who 
go  on  the  work  of  exploration  through  the  underground 
gutters  of  Kew  York  life  never  come  out  at  any  Seine 
river  where  they  can  wash  off  the  pollution  of  the  moral 
sewerage.    Stranger,  if  one  of  the  "drummers"  of  the 
•city,  as  they  are  called — if  one  of  the  K drummers"  pro- 
pose to  take  you  and  show  you  the  "  sights  99  of  the  town 
and  underground  New  York,  say  to  him:    "Please,  sir, 
what  part  do  you  propose  to  show  me?" 

Sabbath  morning  conies.  You  wake  up  in  the  hotel. 
You  have  had  a  longer  sleep  than  usual.  You  say: 
"Where  am  1 1  a  thousand  miles  from  home  !  I  have  no 
family  to  take  to  church  to-day.  My  pastor  will  not  expect 
my  presence.  I  think  I  shall  look  over  my  accounts  and 
study  my  memorandum-book.  Then  I  will  write  a  few 
business  letters,  and  talk  to  that  merchant  who  came  in 
on  the  same  train  with  me."  Stop!  you  cannot  afford  to 
do  it. 

"But."  you  say,  "I  am  worth  five  hundred  thousand 
dollars."  You  cannot  afford  to  do  it.  You  say:  "I  am 
worth  a  million  dollars. 99  You  cannot  afford  to  do  it.  All 


STRANGERS  WARNED. 


271 


you  gain  by  breaking  the  Sabbath  you  will  lose.  You 
will  lose  one  of  three  things:  your  intellect,  your  morals, 
or  your  property,  and  you  cannot  point  in  the  whole  earth 
to  a  single  exception  to  this  rule.  God  gives  us  six  days 
and  keeps  one  for  himself  Now  if  we  try  to  get  the 
seventh,  he  will  upset  the  work  of  all  the  other  six. 

I  remember  going  up  Mount  Washington,  before  the 
railroad  had  been  built,  to  the  Tip-Top  House,  and  the 
guide  would  come  around  to  our  horses  and  stop  us  when 
we  were  crossing  a  very  steep  and  dangerous  place,  and 
he  would  tighten  the  girdle  of  the  horse,  and  straighten 
the  saddle.  And  I  have  to  tell  you  that  this  road  of  life 
is  so  steep  and  full  of  peril  we  must,  at  least  one  day  in 
seven,  stop  and  have  the  harness  of  life  readjusted,  and 
our  souls  re-equipped.  The  seven  days  of  the  week  are 
like  seven  business  partners,  and  you  must  give  to  each 
one  his  share,  or  the  business  will  be  broken  up.  God  is 
so  generous  with  us  ;  he  has  given  you  six  days  to  his 
one.  Now,  here  is  a  father  who  has  seven  apples,  and  he 
gives  six  to  his  greedy  boy,  proposing  to  keep  one  for 
himself.  The  greedy  boy  grabs  for  the  other  one  and  loses 
all  the  six. 

How  few  men  there  are  who  know  how  to  keep  the 
Lord's  day  away  from  home.  A  great  many  who  are  con- 
sistent on  the  banks  of  the  St.  Lawrence,  or  the  Alabama, 
or  the  Mississippi,  are  not  consistent  when  they  get  so 
far  off  as  the  East  River.  I  repeat — though  it  is  putting 
it  on  a  low  ground — you  cannot  financially  afford  to  break 
the  Lord's  day.  It  js  only  another  way  of  tearing  up 
your  government  securities,  and  putting  down  the  price 
of  goods,  and  blowing  up  your  store.  I  have  friends  who 
are  all  the  time  slicing  off  pieces  of  the  Sabbath.  They  cut 
a  little  of  the  Sabbath  off  that  end,  and  a  little  of  the  Sab- 
bath off  this  end.  They  do  not  keep  the  twenty-four  hours. 


272 


STRAJKOERS  WARNED. 


The  Bible  says:  "Remember  the  Sabbath  day,  to  keep  it 
holy."  I  have  good  friends  who  are  quite  accustomed  to 
leaving  Albany  by  the  midnight  train  on  Saturday  night, 
and  getting  home  before  church.  Now,  there  may  be 
occasions  when  it  is  right,  but  generally  it  is  wrong. 
How  if  the  train  should  run  off  the  track  into  the  North 
River?  I  hope  your  friends  will  not  send  for  me  to  preach 
your  funeral  sermon.  It  would  be  an  awkward  thing  for 
me  to  stand  up  by  your  side  and  preach — you  a  Christian 
man  killed  on  a  rail-train  traveling  on  a  Sunday  morn- 
ing. <fc  Remember  the  Sabbath  day  to  keep  it  holy. " 
What  does  that  mean?  It  means  twenty-four  hours. 
A  man  owes  you  a  dollar.  You  don't  want  him  to  pay 
you  ninety  cents;  you  want  the  dollar.  If  God  demands 
of  us  twenty-four  hours  out  of  the  week,  he  means  twenty- 
four  hours  and  not  nineteen.  Oh,  we  want  to  keep  vig- 
ilantly in  this  country  the  American  Sabbath,  and  not 
have  transplanted  here  the  German  or  the  French  Sab- 
bath. If  any  of  you  have  been  in  Paris  you  know  that 
on  Sabbath  morning  the  vast  population  rush  out  toward 
the  country  with  baskets  and  bundles,  and  toward  night, 
they  come  back  fagged  out,  cross,  and  intoxicated.  May 
God  preserve  to  us  our  glorious,  quiet  American  Sab- 
baths. 

And  so  men  come  to  the  verge  of  city  life  and  say  : 
"  Now  we'll  look  off.  Come,  young  man,  don't  be  afraid. 
Come  near,  let's  look  off."  He  looks  and  looks,  until, 
after  a  while,  Satan  comes  and  puts  a  hand  on  each  of  his 
shoulders  and  pushes  him  off.  ^ociety  says  it  is  evil 
proclivity  on  the  part  of  that  young  man.  Oh,  no,  he 
was  simply  an  exploror,  and  sacrificed  his  life  in  dis- 
covery. A  young  man  comes  in  from  the  country  brag- 
ging that  nothing  can  do  him  any  harm.  He  knows 
;,'  -  -in  all  the  tricks  of  city  life.   "Why,"  he  says,  "didn't 


STRANGERS  WARNED. 


273 


I  receive  a  circular  in  the  country  telling  me  that  some- 
how they  found  out  I  was  a  sharp  business  man,  and  if  I 
would  only  send  a  certain  amount  of  money  by  mail  or 
express,  charges  prepaid,  they  would  send  a  package  with 
which  I  could  make  a  fortune  in  two  months;  but  I  didn't 
believe  it.  My  neighbors  did,  but  I  didn't.  Why,  no 
man  could  take  my  money.  I  carry  it  in  a  pocket  inside 
my  vest.  No  man  could  take  it.  No  man  could  cheat 
me  at  the  faro  table.  Don't  I  know  all  about  the  'cue- 
box,'  and  the  'dealer's-box,'  and  the  cards  stuck  together 
as  though  they  were  one,  and  when  to  hand  in  my 
cheques?  Oh,  they  can't  cheat  me.  I  know  what  I  am 
about."  While,  at  the  same  time,  that  very  moment, 
such  men  are  succumbing  to  the  worst  Satanic  influences, 

CD  r 

in  the  simple  fact  that  they  are  going  to  observe.  Now, 
if  a  man  or  woman  shall  go  down  into  a  haunt  of  iniquity 
for  the  purpose  of  reforming  men  and  women — if,  as  did 
John  Howard,  or  Elizabeth  Fry,  or  Tan  Meter,  they  go 
down  among  the  abandoned  for  the  sake  of  saving  souls — 
or  as  did  Chalmers  and  Guthrie  to  see  sin,  that  they 
might  better  combat  it,  then  they  shall  be  God-protected, 
and  they  will  come  out  better  than  when  they  went  in. 
But  if  you  go  on  this  work  of  exploration  merely  for 
the  purpose  of  satisfying  a  morbid  curiosity,  I  will  take 
twenty  per  cent,  off  your  moral  character.  O  strangers, 
welcome  to  the  great  city.  May  you  find  Christ  here, 
and  not  any  physical  or  moral  damage.  Men  coming 
from  inland,  from  distant  cities,  have  here  found  God  and 
found  him  in  our  service.  May  that  be  your  case 
now.  You  thought  you  were  brought  to  this  place  merely 
for  the  purpose  of  sight-seeing.  Perhaps  God  brought 
you  to  this  roaring  city  for  the  purpose  of  working  out 
your  eternal  salvation.  Go  back  to  your  homes  and  tell 
them  how  you  met  Christ  here — the  loving,  patient,  par- 
18 


274 


STRANGERS  WARNED. 


doning,  and  sympathetic  Christ.  Who  knows  but  the 
-city  which  has  been  the  destruction  of  so  many  may  be 
your  eternal  redemption? 

A  good  many  years  ago,  Edward  Stanley,  the  English 
•commander,  with  his  regiment,  took  a  fort.  The  fort  was 
manned  by  some  three  hundred  Spaniards.  Edward 
Stanley  came  close  up  to  the  fort,  leading  his  men,  when 
a  Spaniard  thrust  at  him  with  a  spear,  intending  to 
destroy  his  life;  but  Stanley  caught  hold  of  the  spear, 
and  the  Spaniard  in  attempting  to  jerk  the  spear  away 
from  Stanley,  lifted  him  up  into  the  battlements.  No 
sooner  had  Stanley  taken  his  position  on  the  battlements, 
than  he  swung  his  sword  and  his  whole  regiment  leaped 
aip  after  him  and  the  fort  was  taken.  So  may  it  be  with 
you,  O  stranger.  The  city  influences  which  have  destroyed 
so  many  and  dashed  them  down  for  ever,  shall  be  the 
means  of  lifting  you  up  into  the  tower  of  God's  mercy 
and  strength,  your  soul  more  than  conqueror  through  the 
grace  of  Ilirn  who  hath  promised  an  especial  benediction 
to  those  who  shall  treat  you  well,  saying  :  "  I  was  a 
stranger  and  ye  took  me  in." 


PEOPLE  TO  BE  FEAJJED. 


275 


CHAPTER  XXL 

PEOPLE  TO  BE  FEARED. 

*'  Why  hast  thou  then  broken  down  her  hedges,  so  that  ill  they 
^vhich  pass  by  the  way  do  pluck  her?  The  boar  out  of  the  wooa 
doth  waste  it,  and  the  wild  beast  of  the  field  doth  devour  it" — Psalms 
Sxxx :  12,  13. 

By  this  homely  but  expressive  figure,  the  text  sets 
forth  the  bad  influences  which  in  olden  time  broke  in 
upon  God's  heritage,  as  with  swine's  foot  trampling,  and 
as  with  swine's  snout  uprooting  the  vineyards  of  pros- 
perity. AVhat  was  true  then  is  true  now.  There  have 
been  enough  trees  of  righteousness  planted  to  overshadow 
the  whole  earth,  had  it  not  been  for  the  axe- men  who 
hewed  them  down.  The  temple  of  truth  would  long 
•ago  have  been  completed,  had  it  not  been  for  the  icono- 
clasts who  defaced  the  walls  and  battered  down  the  pil- 
lars. The  whole  earth  would  have  been  an  Eshcol  of 
ripened  clusters,  had  it  not  been  that  "  the  boar  has 
wasted  it  and  the  wild  beast  of  the  field  devoured  it." 

I  propose  to  point  out  to  you  those  whom  I  consider 
to  be  the  'uprooting  and.  devouring  classes  of  society. 
First,  the  public  criminals.  You  ought  not  to  be  surprised 
that  these  people  make  up  a  large  portion  in  many  com- 
munities. The  vast  majority  of  the  criminals  who  take 
ship  from  Europe  come  into  our  own  port.  In  1869,  of 
the  forty-nine  thousand  people  who  were  incarcerated  in 
the  prisons  of  the  country,  thirty-two  thousand  were  of 
foreign  birth.  Many  of  them  were  the  very  desperadoes 
of  society,  oozing  into  the  slums  of  our  cities,  waiting 


276 


PEOPLE  TO  BE  FEARED. 


for  an  opportunity  to  riot  and  steal  and  debauch,  joining; 
the  large  gang  of  American  thugs  and  cut-throats.  There 
are  in  this  cluster  of  cities — New  York,  Jersey  City,, 
and  Brooklyn — four  thousand  people  whose  entire  busi- 
ness in  life  is  to  commit  crime.  That  is  as  much  their 
business  as  jurisprudence  or  medicine  or  merchandise  is 
your  business.  To  it  they  bring  all  their  energies  of 
body,  mind,  and  soul,  and  they  look  upon  the  interreg- 
nums which  they  spend  in  prison  as  so  much  unfortunate 
loss  of  time,  just  as  you  look  upon  an  attack  of  influenza 
or  rheumatism  which  fastens  you  in  the  house  for  a  few 
days.  It  is  their  lifetime  business  to  pick  pockets,  and 
blow  up  safes,  and  shoplift,  and  ply  the  panel  game,  and 
they  have  as  much  pride  of  skill  in  their  business  as  you 
have  in  yours  when  you  upset  the  argument  of  an 
opposing  councilor  cure  a  gunshot  fracture  which  other 
surgeons  have  given  up,  or  foresee  a  turn  in  the  market 
so  you  buy  goods  just  before  they  go  up  twenty  per  cent. 
It  is  their  business  to  commit  crime,  and  I  do  not  sup- 
pose that  once  in  a  year  the  thought  of  the  immorality 
strikes  them.  Added  to  these  professional  criminals, 
American  and  foreign,  there  is  a  large  class  of  men  who 
are  more  or  less  industrious  in  crime.  In  one  year  the 
police  in  this  cluster  of  cities  arrested  ten  thousand 
people  for  theft,  and  ten  thousand  for  assault  and  battery, 
and  fifty  thousand  for  intoxication.  Drunkenness  is 
responsible  for  much  of  the  theft,  since  it  confuses  a 
man's  ideas  of  property,  and  he  gets  his  hands  on  things 
that  do  not  belong  to  him.  Rum  is  responsible  for 
much  of  the  assault  and  battery,  inspiring  men  to  sudden 
bravery,  which  they  must  demonstrate  though  it  be  on 
the  face  of  the  next  gentleman. 

Seven  million  dollars'  worth  of  property  stolen  in 
this  cluster  of  cities  in  one  year.     You  cannot,  as  good 


PEOPLE  TO  BE  FEAKED. 


277 


citizens,  be- independent  of  that  fact.  It  will  touch  your 
pocket,  since  I  have  to  give  you  the  fact  that  these  three 
cities  pay  seven  million  dollars'  worth  of  taxes  a  year  to 
arraign,  try,  and  support  the  criminal  population.  You 
help  to  pay  the  board  of  every  criminal,  from  the  sneak- 
thief  that  snatches  a  spool  of  cotton,  up  to  some  man 
who  enacts  a  "  Black  Friday/5  More  than  that,  it 
touches  your  heart  in  the  moral  depression  of  the  com- 
munity. You  might  as  well  think  to  stand  in  a  closely 
•confined  room  where  there  are  fifty  people  and  yet  not 
breathe  the  vitiated  air,  as  to  stand  in  a  community  where 
there  is  such  a  great  multitude  of  the  depraved  without 
.somewhat  being  contaminated.  What  is  the  tire  that 
burns  your  store  down  compared  with  the  conflagration, 
which  consumes  your  morals?  What  is  the  theft  of  the 
gold  and  silver  from  your  money  safe  compared  with  the 
.theft  of  your  children's  virtue? 

We  are  all  ready  to  arraign  criminals.  We  shout  at 
the  top  of  our  voice,  u  Stop  thief!''  and  when  the  police 
get  on  the  track  we  come  out,  hatless  and  in  our  slippers, 
and  assist  in  the  arrest.  We  come  around  the  bawling 
ruffian  and  hustle  him  off  to  justice,  and  when  he  gets  in 
prison,  what  do  we  do  for  him?  With  great  gusto  we 
put  on  the  handcuffs  and  the  hopples;  but  what  prepara- 
tion are  we  making  for  the  day  when  the  handcuffs  and 
the  hopples  come  off?  Society  seems  to  say  to  these 
•criminals,  "  Villain,  go  in  there  and  rot,"  when  it  ought 
to  say,  "  You  are  an  offender  against  the  law,  but  we 
mean  to  give  you  an  opportunity  to  repent;  we  mean  to 
help  you.  Here  are  Bibles  and  tracts  and  Christian  in- 
fluences.   Christ  died  for  you.    Look,  and  live." 

Vast  improvements  have  been  made  by  introducing 
industries  into  the  prison;  but  we  want  something  more 
than  hammers  and  shoe  lasts  to  reclaim  these  people. 


278 


PEOPLE  TO  BE  FEARED. 


Aye,  we  want  more  than  sermons  on  the  Sabbath  dayv 
Society  must  impress  these  men  with  the  fact  that  it 
does  not  enjoy  their  suffering,  and  that  it  is  attempt- 
ing to  reform  and  elevate  them.  The  majority  of 
criminals  suppose  that  society  has  a  grudge  against 
them,  and  they  in  turn  have  a  grudge  against  society. 

They  are  harder  in  heart  and  more  infuriate  when  they 
come  out  of  jail  than  when  they  went  in.  Many  of  the 
people  who  go  to  prison  go  again  and  again  and  again. 
Some  years  ago,  of  fifteen  hundred  prisoners  who  during 
the  year  had  been  in  Sing  Sing,  four  hundred  had  been 
there  before.  In  a  house  of  correction  in  the  country, 
where  during  a  certain  reach  of  time  there  had  been  five- 
thousand  people,  more  than  three  thousand  had  been  there 
before.  So,  in  one  case  the  prison,  and  in  the  other  case 
the  house  of  correction,  lei't  them  just  as  bad  as  they  were 
before.  The  secretary  of  one  of  the  benevolent  societies 
of  New  York  saw  a  lad  fifteen  years  of  age  who  had 
spent  three  years  of  his  life  in  prison,  and  he  said  to  the 
lad,  "  What  have  they  done  for  you  to  make  yon  better?"" 
"Well,"  replied  the  lad,  "  the  first  time  I  was  brought 
up  before  the  judge  he  said,  '  You  ought  to  be  ashamed 
of  yourself.'  And  then  I  committed  a  crime  again,  and 
I  was  brought  up  before  the  same  judge,  and  he  said, 
*  You  rascal!'  And  after  a  while  I  committed  some 
other  crime,  and  I  was  brought  before  the  same  judge, 
and  he  said,  i  You  ought  to  be  hanged.'  "  That  is  all  they 
had  done  for  him  in  the  way  of  reformation  and  salva- 
tion. "Oh,"  you  say,  u  these  people  are  incorrigible."  I 
suppose  there  are  hundreds  of  persons  this  day  lying  in 
the  prison  bunks  who  would  leap  up  at  the  prospect  of 
reformation,  if  society  would  only  allow  them  away  into 
decency  and  respectability.  "Oh,"  you  say,  "  I  have  no 
patience  with  these  rogues."    I  ask  you  in  reply,  How 


PEOPLE  TO  BE  FEARED. 


2T9 


much  better  would  you  have  been  under  the  same  circum- 
stances? Suppose  your  mother  had  been  a  blasphemer 
and  your  father  a  sot,  and  you  had  started  life  with  a 
body  stuffed  with  evil  proclivities,  and  you  had  spent 
much  of  your  time  in  a  cellar  amid  obscenities  and  curs- 
ing, and  if  at  ten  years  of  age  you  had  been  compelled 
to  go  out  and  steal,  battered  and  banged  at  night  if  you 
came  in  without  any  spoils,  and  suppose  your  early  man- 
hood and  womanhood  had  been  covered  with  rags  and 
filth,  and  decent  society  had  turned  its  back  upon  you^ 
and  left  you  to  consort  with  vagabonds  and  wharf- rats — 
how  much  better  would  you  have  been?  I  have  no  sym- 
pathy with  that  executive  clemency  which  would  let 
crime  run  loose,  or  which  would  sit  in  the  gallery  of  a. 
court-room  weeping  because  some  hard-hearted  wretch, 
is  brought  to  justice;  but  I  do  say  that  the  safety  and 
life  of  the  community  demand  more  potential  influences, 
in  behalf  of  public  offenders. 

Within  live  minutes'  walk  of  where  I  now  stand,  there 
is  a  prison,  enough  to  bringdown  the  wrath  of  Almighty 
God  on  this  city  of  Brooklyn.  It  is  the  Raymond  Street 
Jail.  It  would  not  be  strange  if  the  jail  fever  should 
start  in  that  horrible  hole,  like  that  which  raged  in  Eng- 
land during  the  session  of  the  Black  Assize,  when  three 
hundred  perished — judges,  jurors,  constables,  and  law- 
yers. Alas,  that  our  fair  city  should  have  such  a  pest- 
house.  I  understand  the  sheriff  and  the  jail -keeper  da 
all  they  can,  under  the  circumstances,  for  the  comfort  of 
these  people;  but  five  and  six  people  are  crowded  into  a 
place  where  there  ought  to  be  but  one  or  two.  The  air 
is  like  that  of  the  Black  Hole  of  Calcutta.  As  the  air 
swept  through  the  wicket,  it  almost  knocked  me  down* 
No  sunlight.  Young  men  who  had  committed  their 
first  crime  crowded  in  among  old  offenders.    I  saw  there* 


2S0 


PEOPLE  TO  BE  FEARED. 


one  woman,  with  a  child  almost  blind,  who  had  been 
arrested  for  the  crime  of  povertv,  who  was  waiting  until 
the  slow  law  could  take  her  to  the  almshouse,  where  she 
rightfully  belonged;  but  she  was  thrust  in  therewith  her 
child  amid  the  most  abandoned  wretches  of  the  town. 
Many  of  the  offenders  in  that  prison  sleeping  on  the 
fioor,  with  nothing  but  a  vermin-covered  blanket  over 
them.  Those  people  crowded  and  wan  and  wasted  and 
half  suffocated  and  infuriated.  I  said  to  the  men,  "How 
do  you  stand  it  here?"  "God  knows,"  said  one  man, 
"we  have  to  stand  it."  Oh,  they  will  pay  you  when  they 
get  out.  Where  they  burned  down  one  house  they  will 
burn  three.  They  will  strike  deeper  the  assassin's  knife. 
The}-  are  this  minute  plotting  worse  burglaries.  Ray- 
mond Street  Jail  is  the  best  place  I  know  of  to  manu- 
facture foot-pads,  vagabonds,  and  cut  throats.  Yale 
College  is  not  so  well  calculated  to  make  scholars,  nor 
Harvard  so  well  calculated  to  make  scientists,  nor  Prince- 
ton so  well  calculated  to  make  theologians,  as  Raymond 
Street  Jail  is  calculated  to  make  criminals.  All  that 
those  men  do  not  know  of  crime  after  they  have  been  in 
that  dungeon  for  some  time,  Satanic  machination  cannot 
teach  them.  Every  hour  that  jail  stands,  it  challenges 
the  Lord  Almighty  to  smite  this  city.  I  call  upon  the 
people  to  rise  in  their  wrath  and  demand  a  reformation. 
I  call  upon  the  judges  of  our  courts  to  expose  that 
infamy.  I  call  upon  the  Legislature  of  the  State  of  New 
York,  now  in  session,  to  examine  and  appease  that  out- 
rage on  Oi-od  and  human  society.  I  demand,  in  behalf 
of  those  incarcerated  prisoners,  fresh  air  and  clear  sun- 
light, and,  in  the  name  of  him  who  had  not  where  to  lay 
his  head,  a  couch  to  rest  on  at  night.  In  the  insuffer- 
able stench  and  sickening  surroundings  of  that  Raymond 
Street  Jail  there  is  nothing  but  disease  for  the  body, 


PEOPLE  TO   BE  FEARED. 


2S1 


idiocy  for  the  mind,  and  death  for  the  soul.  Stifled  air 
and  darkness  and  vermin  never  turned  a  thief  into  an 
honest  man. 

"We  want  men  like  John  Howard  and  Sir  "William 
Blackstone,  and  women  like  Elizabeth  Fry,  to  do  for  the 
prisons  of  the  United  States  what  those  people  did  in 
other  days  for  the  prisons  of  England.  I  thank  God  for 
what  Isaac  T.  Hopper  and  Dr.  Wines  and  Mr.  Harris 
and  scores  of  others  have  done  in  the  way  of  prison 
reform;  but  we  want  something  more  radical  before 
upon  this  city  will  come  the  blessing  of  him  who  said  : 
"  I  was  in  prison,  and  ye  came  unto  me.*' 

Again,  in  this  class  of  uprooting  and  devouring  popu- 
lation are  untrustworthy  officials.  "  Woe  unto  thee,  O 
land,  when  thy  kings  and  child,  and  thy  princes  drink 
in  the  morning."  It  is  a  great  calamity  to  a  citv  when 
bad  men  get  into  public  authority.  Why  was  it 
that  in  Xew  York  there  was  such  unparalleled  crime 
between  1S66  and  1S71  \  It  was  because  the  judges  of 
police  in  that  city,  for  the  most  part,  were  as  corrupt  as 
the  vagabonds  fhat  came  before  them  for  trial.  Those 
were  the  days  of  high  carnival  for  election  frauds,  assas- 
sination and  forgery.  "We  had  the  **  AVhisky  Ring,"  and 
the  *'  Tammany  Kino:,''  and  the  "Erie  Rin^.''  There 
was  one  man  during  those  years  that  got  one  hundred 
and  twenty-eight  thousand  dollars  in  one  year  for  serving 
the  public.  In  a  few  years  it  was  estimated  that  there 
were  fifty  millions  of  public  treasure  squandered.  In 
those  times  the  criminal  had  only  to  wink  to  the  judge, 
or  his  lawyer  would  wink  for  him,  and  the  question  was 
decided  for  the  defendant.  Of  the  eight  thousand  people 
arrested  in  that  city  in  one  year,  only  three  thousand 
were  punished.  These  little  matters  were  ts  fixed  up," 
while  the  interests  of  society  were  "fixed  down."  »You 


282 


PEOPLE  TO  BE  FEARED. 


know  as  well  as  I  that  a  criminal  who  escapes  only  opens- 
the  door  for  other  criminalities.  When  the  two  pick- 
pockets snatched  the  diamond  pin  from  the  Brooklyn 
gentleman  in  a  Broadway  stage,  and  the  villains  were 
arrested,  and  the  trial  was  set  down  for  the  General  Ses- 
sions, and  then  the  trial  never  came,  and  never  anything' 
more  was  heard  of  the  case,  the  puhlic  officials  were  only 
bidding  higher  for  more  crime.  It  is  no  compliment  to 
public  authority  when  we  have  in  all  the  cities  of  the 
country,  walking  abroad,  men  and  women  notorious  for 
criminality,  unwhipped  of  justice.  They  are  pointed 
out  to  you  in  the  street  day  by  day.  There  you  find 
what  are  called  the  ''fences,"  the  men  who  stand  between 
the  thief  and  the  honest  man,  sheltering  the  thief  and 
at  a  great  price  handing  over  the  goods  to  the  owner  to 
whom  they  belong.  There  you  will  find  those  who  are 
called  the  "skinners,"  the  men  who  hover  around  Wall 
street,  with  great  sleight  of  hand  in  bonds  and  stocks. 
There  you  find  the  funeral  thieves,  the  people  who  go 
and  sit  down  and  mourn  with  families  and  pick  their 
pockets.  And  there  you  find  the  "confidence  men,'* 
who  borrow  money  of  you  because  they  have  a  dead 
child  in  the  house  and  want  to  bury  it,  when  they  never 
had  a  house  nor  a  family;  or  they  want  to  go  to  England 
and  get  a  large  property  there,  and  they  want  you  to  pay 
their  way,  and  they  will  send  the  money  back  by  the 
very  next  mail.  There  are  the  "harbor  thieves,"  the 
"shoplifters,"  the  "pickpockets,"  famous  all  over  the 
cities.  Hundreds  of  them  with  their  faces  in  the 
"Rogues'  Gallery,"  yet  doing  nothing  for  the  last  five 
or  ten  years  but  defraud  society  and  escape  justice. 
When  these  people  go  unarrested  and  unpunished,  it  is 
putting  a  high  premium  upon  vice,  and  saying  to  the 
young  criminals  of  this  country,  "What  a  safe  thing  it  is 


PEOPLE  TO  BE  FEARED. 


to  be  a  great  criminal."  Let.  the  law  swoop  upon  them. 
Let  it  be  known  in  this  country  that  crime  will  have  no- 
quarter,  that  the  detectives  are  after  it,  that  the  police 
club  is  being  brandished,  that  the  iron  door  of  the  prison 
is  being  opened,  that  the  judge  is  ready  to  call  on  the- 
£ase.  Too  great  leniency  to  criminals  is  too  great 
severity  to  society.  When  the  President  pardoned  the 
wholesale  dealer  in  obscene  books  he  hindered  the  cru- 
sade against  licentiousness;  but  when  Governor  Dix 
refused  to  let  go  Foster,  the  assassin,  who  was  condemned 
to  the  gallows,  he  grandly  vindicated  the  laws  of  God 
and  the  dignity  of  the  State  of  New  York. 

Again:  among  the  uprooting  and  devouring  classes  in 
our  midst  are  the  idle.  Of  course,  I  do  not  refer  to  peo- 
ple who  are  getting  old,  or  to  the  sick,  or  to  those  who 
cannot  get  work  ;  but  1  tell  you  to  look  out  for  those  ath- 
letic men  and  women  who  will  not  work.  When  the 
French  nobleman  was  asked  why  he  kept  busy  when  he 
had  so  large  a  property,  he  said,  "I  keep  on  engraving- 
so  I  may  not  hang  myself."  I  do  not  care  who  the  man 
is,  you  cannot  afford  to  be  idle.  It  is  from  the  idle  classes 
that  the  criminal  classes  are  made  up.  Character,  like 
water,  gets  putrid  if  it  stands  still  too  long.  Who  can 
wonder  that  in  this  world,  where  there  is  so  much  to  do». 
and  all  the  hosts  of  earth  and  heaven  and  hell  are  plung- 
ing into  the  conflict,  and  angels  are  flying,  and  God 
is  at  work,  and  the  universe  is  a-quake  with  the  march- 
ing and  counter-marching,  that  G<>d  lets  his  indignation 
fall  upon  a  man  who  chooses  idleness  ?  I  have  watched 
these  do-nothings  who  spend  their  time  stroking  their 
beard,  and  retouching  their  toilette,  and  criticising 
industrious  people,  and  pass  their  days  and  nights  in  bar- 
rooms and  club  houses,  lounging  and  smoking  and  chew- 
ing and  card-playing.  They  are  not  only  useless,  but  they 


-284 


PEOPLE  TO  BE  FEARED. 


are  dangerous.  How  hard  it  is  for  them  to  while  away 
the  hours? 

Alas!  for  them.  If  they  do  not  know  how  to  while  away 
an  hour,  what  will  they  do  when  they  have  all  eternity 
on  their  hands  ?  These  men  for  a  while  smoke  the  best 
cigars,  and  wear  the  best  broadcloth,  and  move  in  the 
highest  spheres;  but  I  have  noticed  that  very  soon  they 
come  down  to  the  prison,  the  almshouse,  or  stop  at  the 
gallows. 

The  police  stations  of  this  cluster  of  cities  furnish 
annually  two  hundred  thousand  lodgings.  For  the  most 
part,  these  two  hundred  thousand  lodgings  are  furnished 
to  able-bodied  men  and  women — people  as  able  to  work 
as  you  and  I  are.  When  they  are  received  no  longer  at 
one  police  station,  because  they  are  "repeaters,"  they  go 
to  some  other  station,  and  so  they  keep  moving  around. 
They  get  their  food  at  house  doors,  stealing  what  they 
can  lay  their  hands  on  in  the  front  basement  while  the 
servant  is  spreading  the  bread  in  the  back  basement. 
They  will  not  work.  Time  and  again,  in  the  country 
districts,  they  have  wanted  hundreds  and  thousands  of 
laborers.  These  men  will  not  go.  They  do  not  want  to 
work.  I  have  tried  them.  I  have  see  them  to  sawing 
wood  in  my  cellar,  to  see  whether  they  wanted  to  work. 
I  offered  to  pay  them  well  for  it.  I  have  heard  the  saw 
going  for  about  three  minutes,  and  then  I  went  down, 
and  lo,  the  wood,  but  no  saw  !  They  are  the  pest  of  so- 
ciety, and  they  stand  in  the  way  of  the  Lord's  poor,  who 
ought  to  be  helped,  and  must  be  helped,  and  will  be 
helped.  While  there  are  thousands  of  industrious  men 
who  cannot  get  any  work,  these  men  who  do  not  want 
any  work  come  in  and  make  that  plea.  I  am  in  favor  of 
the  restoration  of  the  old-fashioned  whipping-post  for 
just  this  one  class  of  men  who  will  not  work;  sleeping  at 


PEOPLE  TO  BE  FEARED. 


285 


night  at  public  expense  in  tlie  station  house;  during  the 
day,  getting  their  food  at  your  door-step.  Imprison- 
ment does  not  scare  them.  They  would  like  it.  Black- 
well's  Island  or  Sing  Sing  would  be  a  comfortable  home 
for  them.  They  would  have  no  objection  to  the  alms- 
house, for  they  like  thin  soup,  if  they  cannot  get  mock- 
turtle.  I  propose  this  for  them:  on  one  side  of  them  put 
some  healthy  work;  on  the  other  side  put  a  raw -hide,  and 
let  them  take  their  choice.  I  like  for  that  class  of  peo- 
ple the  scant  bill  of  fare  that  Paul  wrote  out  for  the 
Thessalonian  loafers:  uIf  any  work  not,  neither  should 
he  eat."  By  what  law  of  God  or  man  is  it  right  that 
you  and  I  should  toil  day  in  and  day  out,  until  our  hands 
are  blistered  and  our  arms  ache  and  our  brain  gets  numb, 
and  then  be  called  upon  to  support, what  in  the  United 
States  are  about  two  million  loafers!  They  are  a  very 
dangerous  class.  Let  the  public  authorities  keep  their 
eyes  on  them. 

Again:  among  the  uprooting  classes  I  place  the  op- 
pressed poor.  Poverty  to  a  certain  extent  is  chastening; 
but  after  that,  when  it  drives  a  man  to  the  wall,  and  he 
hears  his  children  cry  in  vain  for  bread,  it  sometimes 
makes  him  desperate.  I  think  that  there  are  thousands  of 
honest  men  lacerated  into  vagabondism.  There  are  men 
crushed  under  burdens  for  which  they  are  not  half  paid. 
While  there  is  no  excuse  for  criminality,  even  in  oppres- 
sion, I  state  it  as  a  simple  fact, that  much  of  the  scoun- 
drel ism  of  the  community  is  consequent  upon  ill-treat- 
ment. There  are  many  men  and  women  battered  and 
bruised  and  stung  until  the  hour  of  despair  has  come,  and 
they  stand  with  the  ferocity  of  a  wild  beast  which,  pur- 
sued until  it  can  run  no  longer,  turns  round,  foaming 
and  bleeding,  to  fight  the  hounds. 

There  is  a  vast  underground  New  York  and  Brooklyn 


286 


PEOrLE  TO  BE  FEARED. 


life  that  is  appalling  and  shameful.  It  wallows  and 
steams  with  putrefaction.  You  go  down  the  stairs, 
which  are  wet  and  decayed  with  filth,  and  at  the  bottom  you 
find  the  poor  victims  on  the  floor,  cold,  sick,  three-fourths 
dead,  slinking  into  a  still  darker  corner  under  the  gleam 
of  the  lantern  of  the  police.  There  has  not  been  a  breath 
of  fresh  air  in  that  room  for  five  years,  literally.  The 
broken  sewer  empties  its  contents  upon  them,  and  they 
lie  at  night  in  the  swimming  filth.  There  they  are,  men, 
women,  children;  blacks,  whites;  Mary  Magdalen  with- 
out her  repentance,  and  Lazarus  without  his  God  : 
These  are  "  the  dives"  into  which  the  pick-pockets  and 
the  thieves  go,  as  well  as  a  great  many  who  would  like  a 
different  life  but  cannot  get  it.  These  places  are  the  sores 
of  the  city,  which  bleed  perpetual  corruption.  They  are 
the  underlying  volcano  that  threatens  us  with  aCaraccas 
earthquake.  It  roils  and  roars  and  surges  and  heaves 
and  rocks  and  blasphemes  and  dies.  And  there  are  only 
two  outlets  for  it:  the  police  court  and  the  Potter's  Field. 
In  other  words,  they  must  either  go  to  prison  or  to  hell. 
Oh,  you  never  sawit,you  say.  You  never  will  see  it  until 
on  the  day  when  those  staggering  wretches  shall  come 
up  in  the  light  of  the  judgment  throne,  and  while  all 
hearts  are  being  revealed  God  will  ask  you  what  you  did 
to  help  them. 

There  is  another  layer  of  poverty  and  destitution,  not 
so  squalid,  but  almost  as  helpless.  You  hear  the  inces- 
sant wailing  for  bread  and  clothes  and  fire.  Their  eyes 
are  sunken.  Their  cheek-bones  stand  out.  Their  hands 
are  damp  with  slow  consumption.  Their  flesh  is  puffed 
up  with  dropsies.  Their  breath  is  like  that  of  the  char- 
nel-house. They  hear  the  roar  of  the  wheels  of  fashion 
over  head,  and  the  gay  laughter  of  men  and  maidens,  and 
wonder  why  God  gave  to  others  so  much  and  to  them  so 


PEOPLE  TO  BE  FEARKD. 


2S7 


little.  Some  of  them  thrust  into  an  infidelity  like  that  of 
the  poor  German  girl  who,  when  told  in  the  midst  of  her 
wretchedness  that  God  was  good,  said;  "No,  no  good 
God.    Just  look  at  me.    No  good  God." 

In  this  cluster  of  cities,  whose  cry  of  want  I  this  day 
interpret,  there  are  said  to  be,  as  far  as  I  can  figure  it  up 
from  the  reports,  about  two  hundred  and  ninety  thous- 
and honest  poor  who  are  dependent  upon  individual,  city, 
and  state  charities.  If  all  their  voices  could  come  up  at 
once,  it  would  be  a  groan  that  would  shake  the  founda- 
tions of  the  city,  and  brincr  all  earth  and  heaven  to  the 
rescue.  But,  for  the  most  part,  it  suffers  unexpressed. 
It  sits  in  silence,  gnashing  its  teeth,  and  sucking  the 
blood  of  its  own  arteries,  waiting  for  the  judgment  day. 
Oh,  I  should  not  wonder  if  on  that  day  it  would  be  found 
out  that  some  of  us  had  some  things  that  belonged  to 
them;  some  extra  garment  which  might  have  made  them 
comfortable  in  these  cold  days;  some  bread  thrust  into 
the  ash-barrel  that  might  have  appeased  their  hunger 
for  a  little  while;  some  wasted  candle  or  gas-jet  that 
might  have  kindled  up  their  darkness;  some  fresco  on 
the  ceiling  that  would  have  given  them  a  roof;  some 
jewel  which,  brought  to  that  orphan  girl  in  time,  might 
have  kept  her  from  being  crowded  off  the  precipices  of 
an  unclean  life;  some  New  Testament  that  would  have 
told  them  of  him  who  u  came  to  seek  and  save  that 
which  was  lost."  Oh,  this  wave  of  vagrancy  and  hunger 
and  nakedness  that  dashes  against  our  front  door  step; 
I  wonder  if  you  hear  it  and  see  it  as  much  as  I  hear  it 
and  see  it.  This  last  week  I  have  been  almost  frenzied 
with  the  perpetual  cry  for  help  from  all  classes  and  from 
all  nations,  knocking,  knocking,  ringing,  ringing,  until 
I  dare  not  have  more  than  one  decent  pair  of  shoes,  nor 
more  than  one  decent  coat,  nor  more  than  one  decent 


2S8 


PEOPLE  TO  BE  FEA.RED. 


hat,  lest  in  the  last  day  it  be  found  that  I  have  some- 
thing that  belongs  to  them,  and  Christ  shall  turn  to  me 
and  say:  "  Inasmuch  as  ye  did  it  not  to  these,  ye  did  it 
not  to  me."  If  the  roofs  of  all  the  houses  of  destitution 
could  be  lifted  so  we  could  look  down  into  them  just  as 
God  looks,  whose  nerves  would  be  strong  enough  to 
stand  it?  And  yet  there  they  are.  The  forty-five  thous- 
and sewing- women  in  these  three  cities,  some  of  them  in 
hunger  and  cold,  working  night  after  night,  until  some- 
times the  blood  spurts  from  nostril  and  lip.  How  well 
their  grief  was  voiced  by  that  despairing  woman  who 
stood  by  her  invalid  husband  and  invalid  child,  and  said 
to  the  city  missionary:  ''I  am  down-hearted.  Every- 
thing's against  us  ;  and  then  there  are  other  things." 
u  What  other  things?"  said  the  city  missionary.  u  Oh," 
she  replied,  "  my  sin."  "  What  do  you  mean  by  that?" 
41  Well,"  she  said,  "  I  never  hear  or  see  anything  good. 
It's  work  from  Monday  morning  to  Saturday  night,  and 
then  when  Sunday  comes  I  can't  go  out,  and  I  walk  the 
floor,  and  it  makes  me  tremble  to  think  that  I  have  got  to 
meet  God.  O  sir,  it's  so  hard  for  us.  We  have  to  work 
60,  and  then  we  have  so  much  trouble,  and  then  we  are 
getting  along  so  poorly;  and  see  this  wee  little  thing 
growing  weaker  and  weaker;  and  then  to  think  we  are 
not  getting  nearer  to  God,  but  floating  away  from  him. 
O  sir,  I  do  wish  I  was  ready  to  die.*' 

I  should  not  wonder  if  they  had  a  good  deal  better 
time  than  we  in  the  future,  to  make  up  for  the  fact  that 
they  had  such  a  bad  time  here.  It  would  be  just  like 
Jesus  to  say:  "  Come  up  and  take  the  highest  seats. 
You  suffered  with  me  on  earth;  now  be  glorified  witli 
me  in  heaven."  O  thou  weeping  One  of  Bethany!  O 
thou  dying  One  of  the  cross!  Have  mercy  on  the  starv- 
ing, freezing,  homeless  poor  of  these  great  cities! 


PEOPLE  TO  BE  FEARED. 


289 


I  have  preached  this  sermon  for  four  or  five  practical 
reasons:  Because  I  want  you  to  know  who  are  the  up- 
rooting classes  of  society.  Because  I  want  you  to  be 
more  discriminating  in  your  charities.  Because  I  want 
your  hearts  open  with  generosity,  and  your  hands  open, 
with  charity.  Because  I  want  you  to  be  made  the  sworn 
friends  of  all  city  evangelization,  and  all  newsboys' 
lodging  houses,  and  all  Howard  Missions,  and  Children's 
Aid  Societies.  Aye,  I  have  preached  it  because  I  want 
you  this  week  to  send  to  the  Dorcas  Society  all  the  cast- 
off  clothing,  that  under  the  skillful  manipulation  of  our 
wives  and  mothers  and  sisters  and  daughters,  these  gar- 
ments may  be  fitted  on  the  cold,  bare  feet,  and  on  the 
shivering  limbs  of  the  destitute.  I  should  not  wonder  if 
that  hat  that  you  give  should  come  back  a  jeweled  coronet, 
of  if  that  garment  that  you  this  week  hand  out  from 
your  wardrobe  should  mysteriously  be  whitened,  and 
somehow  wrought  into  the  jSavior's  own  robe,  so  in  the 
last  day  he  would  run  his  hand  over  it,  and  say:  "  I  was 
naked,  and  ye  clothed  me."  That  would  be  putting  your 
garments  to  glorious  uses. 

But  more  than  that,  I  have  preached  the  sermon  be- 
cause I  thought  in  the  contrast  you  would  see  how  very 
kindly  God  had  dealt  with  you,  and  I  thought  that 
thousands  of  you  would  go  to-day  to  your  comfortable 
homes,  and  sit  at  your  well-filled  tables,  and  at  the  warm 
registers,  and  look  at  the  round  faces  of  your  children, 
and  that  then  you  would  burst  into  tears  at  the  review 
of  God's  goodness  to  you,  and  that  you  would  go  to  your 
room  this  afternoon  and  lock  the  door,  and  kneel  down, 
and  say:  ik  O  Lord,  I  have  been  an  ingrate;  make  me 
thy  child.  O  Lord,  there  are  so  many  hungry  and  un- 
clad and  unsheltered  to-day,  I  thank  thee  that  all  my  life 
thou  hast  taken  such  good  care  of  me.  O  Lord,  there 
19 


290 


PEOPLE  TO  BE  FEAEED. 


are  su  many  sick  and  crippled  children  to-day,  I  thank 
thee  mine  are  well,  some  of  them  on  earth,  some  of  them 
in  heaven.  Thy  goodness,  O  Lord,  breaks  me  down. 
Take  me  once,  and  forever.  Sprinkled  as  I  was  many 
years  ago  at  the  altar,  while  my  mother  held  me,  now  I 
consecrate  my  soul  to  thee  in  a  holier  baptism  of  repent- 
ing tears. 

"  For  sinners,  Lord,  Thou  cam'st  to  bleed, 
And  I'm  a  sinner  vile  indeed; 
Lord,  I  believe  Thy  grace  is  free, 
O  magnify  that  grace  in  me.  " 


/ 


THE  WORSHIP  OF  THE  GOLDEN  CALF.  291 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

-tUV  WORSHIP  OF  THE  GOLDEN  CALF. 

"  And  \e  took  the  calf  which  they  had  made,  and  burnt  it  in  the 
fire,  and  ground  it  to  powder,  and  strewed  it  upon  the  water,  and 
made  the  children  of  Israel  drink  of  it."— Exodus  xxxii:  20. 

People  will  have  a  god  of  some  kind,  and  they  prefer 
one  of  their  own  making.  Here  come  the  Israelites, 
breaking  off  their  golden  earrings,  the  men  as  well  as 
the  women,  for  in  those  times  there  were  masculine  as 
well  as  feminine  decorations.  Where  did  they  get  these 
beautiful  gold  earrings,  coming  up  as  they  did  from  the 
desert?  Oh,  they  "borrowed"  them  of  the  Egyptians 
v  when  they  left  Egypt.    These  earrings  are  piled  up  into 

a  pyramid  of  glittering  beauty.  "  Any  more  earrings 
to  bring  V  says  Aaron.  None.  Fire  is  kindled  ;  the 
earrings  are  melted  and  poured  into  a  mold,  not  of  an 
eagle  or  a  war  charger,  but  of  a  calf  ;  the  gold  cools  off; 
the  mold  is  taken  away,  and  the  idol  is  set  up  on  its 
four  legs.  An  altar  is  built  in  front  of  the  shining  calf. 
Then  the  people  throw  up  their  arms,  and  gyrate,  and 
shriek,  and  dance  mightily,  and  worship.  Moses  has 
been  six  weeks  on  Mount  Sinai,  and  he  comes  back  and 
hears  the  howling  and  sees  the  dancing  of  these  golden- 
calf  fanatics,  and  he  loses  his  patience,  and  he  takes  the 
two  plates  of  stone  on  which  were  written  the  Ten  Com- 
mandments and  flings  them  so  hard  against  a  rock  that 
they  split  all  to  pieces.  When  a  man  gets  mad  he  is 
very  apt  to  break  all  the  Ten  Commandments!  Moses 
rushes  in  and  he  takes  this  calf-god  and  throws  it  into  a 


292 


THE  WORSHIP  OF  THE  GOLDEN  CALF. 


hot  fire,  until  it  is  melted  all  out  of  shape,  and  then 
pulverizes  it — not  by  the  modern  appliance  of  nitro- 
muriatic  acid,  but  by  the  ancient  appliance  of  nitre,  or 
by  the  old-fashioned  file.  He  makes  for  the  people  a 
most  nauseating  draught.  lie  takes  this  pulverized 
golden  calf  and  throws  it  in  the  only  brook  which  is  ac- 
cessible, and  the  people  are  compelled  to  drink  of  that 
brook  or  not  drink  at  all.  But  they  did  not  drink  all  the 
glittering  stuff  thrown  on  the  surface.  Some  of  it  flows 
on  down  the  surface  of  the  brook  to  the  river,  and  then 
flows  on  down  the  river  to  the  sea,  and  the  sea  takes  it 
up  and  bears  it  to  the  mouth  of  all  the  rivers,  and  when 
the  tides  set  back,  the  remains  of  this  golden  calf  are  car- 
ried up  into  the  Hudson,  and  the  East  river,  and  the 
Thames,  and  the  Clyde,  and  the  Tiber,  and  men  go  out 
and  they  skim  the  glittering  surface,  and  they  bring  it 
ashore  and  they  make  another  golden  calf,  and  California 
and  Australia  break  off  their  golden  earrings  to  augment 
the  pile,  and  in  the  fires  of  financial  excitement  and 
struggle  all  these  things  are  melted  together*  and  while 
we  stand  looking  and  wondering  what  will  come  of  it, 
lo!  we  find  that  the  golden  calf  of  Israelitish  worship 
has  become  the  golden  calf  of  European  and  American 
worship. 

I  shall  describe  to  you  the  god  spoken  of  in  the  text, 
his  temple,  his  altar  of  sacrifice,  the  music  that  is  made 
in  his  temple,  and  then  the  final  breaking  up  of  the  whole 
congregation  of  idolaters. 

Put  aside  this  curtain  and  you  see  the  golden  calf  of 
modern  idolatry.  It  is  not  like  other  idols,  made  out  of 
stocks  or  stone,  but  it  has  an  ear  so  sensitive  that  it  can 
hear  the  whispers  on  Wall  street  and  Third  street  and 
State  street,  and  the  footfalls  in  the  Bank  of  England, 
and  the  flutter  of  a  Frenchman's  heart  on  the  Bourse. 


THE  WORSHIP  OF  THE  GOLDEN  CALF. 


293 


It  has  an  eye  so  keen  that  it  can  see  the  rust  on  the  farm 
of  Michigan  wheat  and  the  insect  in  the  Maryland 
peach -orchard,  and  the  trampled  grain  under  the  hoof  of 
the  .Russian  war  charger.  It  is  so  mighty  that  it  swings 
any  way  it  will  the  world's  shipping.  It  has  its  foot  on 
all  the  merchantmen  and  the  steamers.  It  started  the 
American  Civil  War,  and  under  God  stopped  it,  and  it 
decided  the  Turko-Russian  contest.  One  broker  in 
September,  1869,  in  New  York,  shouted,  "One  hundred 
and  sixty  for  a  million!"  and  the  whole  continent  shiv- 
ered. This  golden  calf  of  the  text  lias  its  right  front 
foot  in  New  York,  its  left  front  foot  in  Chicago,  its  right 
back  foot  in  Charleston,  its  left  back  foot  in  New  Orleans, 
and  when  it  shakes  itself  it  shakes  the  world.  Oh!  this 
is  a  mighty  god — the  golden  calf  of  the  world's  worship. 

But  every  god  must  have  its  temple,  and  this  golden 
calf  of  the  text  is  no  exception.  Its  temple  is  vaster 
than  St.  Paul's  of  the  English,  and  St.  Peter's  of  the 
Italians,  and  the  Alhambra  of  the  Spaniards,  and  the 
Parthenon  of  the  Greeks,  and  the  Mahal  Taj  of  the 
Hindoos,  and  all  the  other  cathedrals  put  together.  Its 
pillars  are  grooved  and  fluted  with  gold,  and  its  ribbed 
arches  are  hovering  gold,  and  its  chandeliers  are  descend- 
ing gold,  and  its  floors  are  tesselated  gold,  and  its  vaults 
are  crowded  heaps  of  gold,  and  its  spires  and  domes  are 
soaring  gold,  and  its  organ  pipes  are  resounding  gold, 
andvits  pedals  are  tramping  gold,  and  its  stops  pulled 
out  are  flashing  gold,  while  standing  at  the  head  <  »f  the 
temple,  as  the  presiding  deity,  are  the  hoofs  and  shoul- 
ders and  eyes  and  ears  and  nostrils  of  the  calf  of  gold. 

Further:  every  god  must  have  not  only  its  temple,  but 
its  altar  of  sacrifice,  and  this  golden  calf  of  the  text  is 
no  exception.  Its  altar  is  not  made  out  of  stone  as  other 
altars,  but  out  of  counting-room  desks  and  fire-proof 


294  THE  WORSHIP  OF  THE  GOLDEN  UALF. 


safes,  and  it  is  a  broad,  a  long,  a  high  altar.  The  vic- 
tims sacrificed  on  it  are  the  Swartouts,  and  the  Ketchanis, 
and  the  Fisks,  and  the  Tweeds,  and  the  Mortons,  and  ten 
thousand  other  people  who  are  slain  before  this  golden 
calf.  What  does  this  god  care  about  the  groans  and 
struggles  of  the  victims  before  it?  With  cold,  metallic 
eye  it  looks  on  and  yet  lets  them  suffer.  Oh !  heaven 
and  earth,  what  an  altar!  what  a  sacrifice  of  body,  mind, 
and  soul!  The  physical  health  of  a  great  multitude  is 
flung  on  this  sacrificial  altar.  They  cannot  sleep,  and 
they  take  chloral  and  morphine  and  intoxicants.  Some 
of  them  struggle  in  a  nightmare  of  stocks,  and  at  one 
o'clock  in  the  morning  suddenly  rise  up  shouting:  "A 
thousand  shares  of  New  York  Central — one  hundred 
and  eight  and  a- half !  take  it!"  until  the  whole  family  is 
affrighted,  and  the  speculators  fall  back  on  their  pillows 
and  sleep  until  they  are  awakened  again  by  a  "  corner  " 
in  the  Pacific  Mail,  or  a  sudden  "rise"  of  Rock  Island. 
Their  nerves  gone,  their  digestion  gone,  their  brain 
gone,  they  die.  The  clergyman  comes  in  and  reads  the 
funeral  service:  "  Blessed  are  the  dead  who  die  in  the 
Lord."  Mistake.  They  did  not  "  die  in  the  Lord;"  the 
golden  calf  kicked  them! 

The  trouble  is,  when  men  sacrifice  themselves  on  this 
altar  suggested  in  the  text,  they  not  only  sacrifice  them- 
selves, but  they  sacrifice  their  families.  If  a  man  by  an 
ill  course  is  determined  to  go  to  perdition,  I  suppose 
you  will  have  to  let  him  go;  but  he  puts  his  wife  and 
children  in  an  equipage  that  is  the  amazement  of  the 
avenues,  and  the  driver  lashes  the  horses  into  two  whirl- 
winds, and  the  spokes  flash  in  the  sun,  and  the  golden 
headgear  of  the  harness  gleams,  until  Black  Calamity 
takes  the  bits  of  the  horses  and  stops  them,  and  shouts 
to  the  luxuriant  occupants  of  the  equipage:  "Get  out!" 


THE  WORSHIP  OF  THE  GOLDEN  CALF.  295 


They  get  oat.  They  get  down.  That  husband  and 
father  flung  his  family  so  hard  they  never  got  up  again. 
There  was  the  mark  on  them  for  life — the  mark  of  a 
split  hoof — the  death-dealing  hoof  of  the  golden  calf. 

Solomon  offered  in  one  sacrifice,  on  one  occasion, 
twenty-two  thousand  oxen  and  one  hundred  and  twenty 
thousand  sheep;  but  that  was  a  tame  sacrifice  compared 
with  the  multitude  of  men  who  are  sacrificing  them- 
selves on  this  altar  of  the  golden  calf,  and  sacrificing 
their  families  with  them.  The  soldiers  of  General 
Havelock,  in  India,  walked  literally  ankle  deep  in  the 
blood  of  the  "  house  of  massacre,"  where  two  hun- 
dred women  and  children  had  been  slain  by  the  Sepoys; 
but  the  blood  around  about  this  altar  of  the  golden  calf 
flows  up  to  the  knee,  flows  to  the  girdle,  flows  to  the 
shoulder,  flows  to  the  lip.  Great  God  of  heaven  and 
earth,  have  mercy!    The  golden  calf  has  none. 

Still  the  degrading  worship  goes  on,  and  the  devotees 
kneel  and  kiss  the  dust,  and  count  their  golden  beads, 
and  cross  themselves  with  the  blood  of  their  own  sacri- 
fice. The  music  rolls  on  under  the  arches;  it  is  made 
of  clinking  silver  and  clinking  gold,  and  the  rattling 
specie  of  the  banks  and  brokers'  shops,  and  the  voices 
of  all  the  exchanges.  The  soprano  of  the  worship  is 
carried  by  the  timid  voices  of  men  who  have  just  begun 
to  speculate;  while  the  deep  bass  rolls  out  from  those 
who  for  ten  years  of  iniquity  have  been  doubly  damned. 
Chorus  of  voices  rejoicing  over  what  they  have  made. 
Chorus  of  voices  wailing  over  what  they  have  lost. 
This  temple  of  which  I  speak  stands  open  day  and 
night,  and  there  is  the  glittering  god  with  his  four  feet 
on  broken  hearts,  and  there  is  the  smoking  altar  of  sac- 
rifice, new  victims  every  moment  on  it,  and  there  are 
the  kneeling  devotees;  and  the  doxology  of  the  worship 


296 


THE  WORSHIP  OF  THE  OOLDEN  CALF. 


rolls  on,  while  Death  stands  with  mouldy  and  skeleton 
arm  beating  time  for  the  chorus — "  More!  more!  more!" 

Some  people  are  very  much  surprised  at  the  actions 
of  folk  in  the  Stock  Exchange,  New  York.  Indeed,  it 
is  a  scene  sometimes  that  paralyzes  description,  and  is 
beyond  the  imagination  of  any  one  who  has  never  looked 
in.  What  snapping  of  finger  and  thumb  and  wild  ges- 
ticulation, and  raving  like  hyenas,  and  stamping  like 
buffaloes,  and  swaying  to  and  fro,  and  jostling  and  run- 
ning one  upon  another,  and  deafening  uproar,  until  the 
president  of  the  Exchange  strikes  with  his  mallet  four 
or  five  times,  crying,  "  Order!  order!"  and  the  aston- 
ished spectator  goes  out  into  the  fresh  air  feeling  that  he 
has  escaped  from  pandemonium.  What  does  it  all 
mean?  I  will  tell  you  what  it  means.  The  devotees  of 
every  heathen  temple  cut  themselves  to  pieces,  and  yell 
and  gyrate.  This  vociferation  and  gyration  of  the  Stock 
Exchange  is  all  appropriate.  This  is  the  worship  of  the 
golden  calf. 

But  my  text  suggests  that  this  worship  must  be  broken 
up,  as  the  behavior  of  Moses  in  my  text  indicated. 
There  are  those  who  say  that  this  golden  call*  spoken  of 
in  my  text  was  hollow,  and  merely  plated  with  gold; 
otherwise,  they  say,  Moses  could  not  have  carried  it.  I 
do  not  know  that  ;  but  somehow,  perhaps  by  the  assist- 
ance of  his  friends,  he  takes  up  this  golden  calf,  which 
is  an  open  insult  to  God  and  man,  and  throws  it  into  the 
fire,  and  it  is  melted,  and  then  it  comes  out  and  is  cooled 
off,  and  by  some  chemical  appliance,  or  by  an  old-fash- 
ioned file,  it  is  pulverized,  and  it  is  thrown  into  the 
brook,  and,  as  a  punishment,  the  people  are  compelled 
to  drink  the  nauseating  stuff.  So,  my  hearers,  you  may 
depend  upon  it  that  God  will  burn  and  he  will  grind  to 
pieces  the  golden  calf  of  modern  idolatry,  and  he  will 


THE  WORSHIP  OF  THE  GOLDEN  CALF.  297 


compel  the  people  in  their  agony  to  drink  it.  If  not 
before,  it  will  be  so  on  the  last  day.  I  know  net  where 
the  fire  will  begin,  whether  at  the  "  Battery  "  or  Central 
Park,  whether  at  Fulton  Ferry  or  at  Bushwick,  whether 
atShoreditch,  London,  or  West  End;  but  it  will  be  a  very 
hot  blaze.  All  the  Government  securities  of  the  United 
States  and  Great  Britain  will  curl  up  in  the  first  blast. 
All  the  money  safes  and  depositing  vaults  will  melt 
under  the  first  touch.  The  sea  will  burn  like  tinder, 
and  the  shipping  will  be  abandoned  forever.  The  melt- 
ing gold  in  the  broker's  window  will  burst  through  the 
melted  window-glass  and  into  the  street;  but  the  flying 
population  will  not  stop  to  scoop  it  up.  The  cry  of 
"Fire"  from  the  mountain  will  be  answered  by  the  cry 
of  "Fire"  in  the  plain.  The  conflagration  will  burn 
out  from  the  continent  toward  the  sea,  and  then  burn  in 
from  the  sea  toward  the  land.  New  York  and  London 
with  one  cut  of  the  red  scythe  of  destruction  will  go 
down.  Twenty-five  thousand  miles  of  conflagration! 
The  earth  will  wrap  itself  round  and  round  in  shroud  of 
flame,  and  lie  down  to  perish.  What  then  will  become 
of  your  golden  calf  ?  Who  then  so  poor  as  to  worship 
it?  Melted,  or  between  the  upper  and  the  nether  mill- 
stone of  falling  mountains  ground  to  powder.  Dagon 
down.  Moloch  down.  Juggernaut  down.  Golden  calf 
down. 

But,  my  friends,  every  day  is  a  day  of  judgment,  and 
God  is  all  the  time  grinding  to  pieces  the  golden  calf. 
Merchants  of  New  York  and  London,  what  is  the  char- 
acteristic of  this  time  in  which  we  live?  "  Bad,"  you 
say.  Professional  men,  what  is  the  characteristic  of  the 
times  in  which  we  live  ?  u  Bad,"  you  say.  Though  I 
should  be  in  a  minority  of  one,  I  venture  the  opinion 
that  these  are  the  best  times  we  have  had  in  fifteen 


298 


THE   WOliSJITP  OF  THE  GOLDEN  CALF. 


years,  for  the  reason  that  God  is  teacfiing  the  world,  as 
never  before,  that  old-fashioned  honesty  is  the  only  thing 
that  will  stand.  In  the  past  few  months  we  have  learned 
as  never  before  that  forgeries  will  not  pay;  that  the 
watering  of  stock  will  not  pay;  that  the  spending  of  fifty 
thousand  dollars  on  country  seats  and  a  palatial  city  resi- 
dence, when  there  are  only  thirty  thousand  dollars  income, 
will  not  pay;  that  the  appropriation  of  trust  funds  to  our 
own  private  speculation  will  not  pay.  "We  had  a  great  na- 
tional tumor,  in  the  shape  of  fictitious  prosperity.  We 
called  it  national  enlargement;  instead  of  calling  it  en- 
largement, we  might  better  have  called  it  a  swelling.  It 
has  been  a  tumor,  and  God  is  cutting  it  out — has  cut  it 
out,  and  the  nation  will  get  well  and  will  come  back  to  the 
principles  of  our  fathers  and  grandfathers  when  twice 
three  made  six  instead  of  sixty,  and  when  the  apples  at 
the  bottom  of  the  barrel  were  just  as  good  as  the  apples 
on  the  top  of  the  barrel,  and  a  silk  handkerchief  was  not 
half  cotton,  and  a  man  who  wore  a  five-dollar  coat  paid 
for  was  more  honored  than  a  man  who  wore  a  fifty-dollar 
coat  not  paid  for. 

The  golden  calf  of  our  day,  like  the  one  of  the  text,  is 
very  apt  to  be  made  out  of  borrowed  gold.  These 
Israelites  of  the  text  borrowed  the  earrings  of  the  Egyp- 
tians, and  then  melted  them  into  a  god.  That  is  the 
way  the  golden  calf  is  made  nowadays.  A  great  many 
housekeepers,  not  paying  for  the  articles  they  get,  bor- 
row of  the  grocer  and  the  baker  and  the  butcher  and  'the 
dry-goods  seller.  Then  the  retailer  borrows  of  the  whole- 
sale dealer.  Then  the  wholesale  dealer  borrows  of  the 
capitalist,  and  we  borrow,  and  borrow,  and  borrow,  until 
the  community  is  divided  into  two  classes,  those  who 
borrow  and  those  who  are  borrowed  of;  and  after  a 
while  the  capitalist  wants  his  money  and  he  rushes  upon 


THE  WORSHIP  OF  THE  GOLDEN  CALF. 


299 


the  wholesale  dealer,  and  the  wholesale  dealer  wants  his 
money  and  he  rushes  upon  the  retailer,  and  the  retailer 
wants  his  money  and  he  rushes  upon  the  consumer,  and 
we  all  go  down  together.  There  is  many  a  man  in  this 
day  who  rides  in  a  carriage  and  owes  the  blacksmith  for 
the  tire,  and  the  wheelwright  for  the  wheel,  and  the 
trimmer  for  the  curtain,  and  the  driver  for  unpaid  wages, 
and  the  harness-maker  for  the  bridle,  and  the  furrier  for 
the  robe,  while  from  the  tip  of  the  carriage  tongue  clear 
back  to  the  tip  of  the  camel's-hair  shawl  fluttering  out 
of  the  back  of  the  vehicle,  everything  is  paid  for  by  notes 
that  have  been  three  times  renewed. 

I  tell  you,  sirs,  that  in  this  country  we  will  never  get 
things  right  until  we  stop  borrowing,  and  pay  as  we  go. 
It  is  this  temptation  to  borrow,  and  borrow,  and  borrow, 
that  keeps  the  people  everlastingly  praying  to  the  golden 
calf  for  help,  and  just  at  the  minute  they  expect  the  help 
the  golden  calf  treads  on  them.  The  judgments  of  God, 
like  Moses  in  the  text,  will  rush  in  and  break  up  this 
worship;  and  I  say,  let  the  work  go  on  until  every  man 
shall  learn  to  speak  truth  with  his  neighbor,  and  those 
who  make  engagements  shall  feel  themselves  bound  to 
keep  them,  and  when  a  man  who  will  not  repent  of  his 
business  iniquity,  but  goes  on  wishing  to  satiate  his  can- 
nibal appetite  by  devouring  widows'  houses,  shall,  by 
the  law  of  the  land,  be  compelled  to  exchange  the  brown 
stone  front  on  Madison  Avenue  or  Beacon  Hill  for  New- 
gate or  Sing  Sing.    Let  the  golden  calf  perish! 

But,  my  friends,  if  we  have  made  this  world  our  god, 
when  we  come  to  die  we  will  see  our  idol  demolished. 
How  much  of  this  world  are  you  going  to  take  with  you 
into  the  next  %  Will  you  have  two  pockets — one  in  each 
side  of  your  shroud  ?  Will  you  cushion  your  coffin  with 
bonds  and  mortgages  and  certificates  of  stock?  Ah! 


300 


THE  WORSHIP  OF  TilE  GULDEN  CALF. 


The  ferry-boat  that  crosses  this  Jordan  takes  no  baggage 
— nothing  heavier  than  a  spirit.  You  may,  perhaps, 
take  five  hundred  dollars  with  you  two  or  three  miles, 
in  the  shape  of  funeral  trappings,  to  Greenwood,  but  you 
will  have  to  leave  them  there.  It  would  not  be  safe  for 
you  to  lie  down  there  with  a  gold  watch  or  a  diamond 
ring;  it  would  be  a  temptation  to  the  pillagers.  Ah, 
my  friends !  if  we  have  made  this  world  our  god,  when 
we  die  we  will  see  our  idol  ground  to  pieces  by  our 
pillow,  and  we  will  have  to  drink  it  in  bitter  regrets  for 
the  wasted  opportunities  of  a  lifetime.  Soon  we  will  be 
gone.  O!  this  is  a  fleeting  world,  it  is  a  dying  world. 
A  man  who  had  worshiped  it  all  his  days  in  his  dying 
moment  described  himself  when  he  said:  "Fool!  fool  I 
fool!" 

I  want  you  to  change  temples,  and  to  give  up  the  wor- 
ship of  this  unsatisfying  and  cruel  god  for  the  service  of 
the  Lord  Jesus  Christ.  Here  is  the  gold  that  will  never 
crumble.  Here  are  securities  that  will  never  fail.  Here 
are  banks  that  will  never  break.  Here  is  an  altar  on 
which  there  has  been  one  sacrifice  once  for  all.  Here  is 
a  God  who  will  comfort  you  when  you  are  in  trouble, 
and  soothe  you  when  you  are  sick,  and  save  you  when 
you  die.  When  your  parents  have  breathed  their  last, 
and  the  old,  wrinkled,  and  trembling  hands  can  no  more 
be  put  upon  your  head  for  a  blessing,  he  will  be  to  you 
father  and  mother  both,  giving  you  the  defense  of  the  one 
and  the  comfort  of  the  other  ;  and  when  your  children 
go  away  from  you,  the  sweet  darlings,  you  will  not  kiss 
them  good-by  for  ever.  He  only  wants  to  hold  them  for 
you  a  little  while.  He  will  give  them  back  to  you  again, 
and  lie  will  have  them  all  waiting  for  you  at  the  gates 
of  eternal  welcome.  Oh!  what  a  God  he  is!  He  will 
allow  you  to  come  so  close  this  morning  that  you  can 


THE  WORSHIP  OF  THE  GOLDEN  CALF. 


301 


put  your  arms  around  his  neck,  while  he  in  response 
will  put  his  arms  around  your  neck,  and  all  the  windows 
of  heaven  will  be  hoisted  to  let  the  redeemed  look  out 
and  see  the  spectacle  of  a  rejoicing  Father  and  a  returned 
prodigal  locked  in  glorious  embrace.  Quit  worshiping 
the  golden  calf,  and  bow  this  day  before  him  in  whose 
presence  we  must  all  appear  when  the  world  has  turned 
to  ashes  and  the  scorched  parchment  of  the  sky  shall  be 
rolled  together  like  an  historic  scrolL 


Z02 


DRY-GOODS  RELIGION. 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

DRY-GOODS  RELIGION. 

"Whose  adorning,  let  it  not  be.  .  .  .putting  on  of  apparel." — 

1  Peter  iii :  3. 

My  subject  is  dry  goods  religion.  That  we  should  all 
be  clad,  is  proved  by  the  opening  of  the  first  wardrobe  in 
Paradise,  with  its  apparel  of  dark  green.  That  we  should 
all,  as  far  as  our  means  allow  us,  be  beautifully  and  grace- 
fully appareled,  is  proved  by  the  fact  that  God  never 
made  a  wave  but  he  gilded  it  with  golden  sunbeams,  or 
a  tree  but  he  garlanded  it  with  blossoms,  or  a  sky  but 
he  studded  it  with  stars,  or  allowed  even  the  smoke  of  a 
furnace  to  ascend  but  he  columned  and  turreted  and 
domed  and  scrolled  it  into  outlines  of  indescribable 
gracefulness.  When  I  see  the  apple-orchards  of  the 
spring  and  the  pageantry  of  the  autumnal  forests,  I  come 
to  the  conclusion  that  if  nature  ever  does  join  the  Church, 
while  she  may  be  a  Quaker  in  the  silence  of  her  worship, 
she  never  will  be  a  Quaker  in  the  style  of  her  dress. 
Why  the  notches  of  a  fern  leaf,  or  the  stamen  of  a  water 
lily?  Why,  when  the  day  departs,  does  it  let  the  folding 
doors  of  heaven  stay  open  so  long,  when  it  might  go  in 
so  quickly?  One  summer  morning  I  saw  an  army  of  a 
million  spears,  each  one  adorned  with  a  diamond  of  the 
first  water — I  mean  the  grass  with  the  dew  on  it.  When 
the  prodigal  came  home  his  father  not  only  put  a  coat 
on  his  back,  but  jewelry  on  his  hand.  Christ  wore  a 
beard.  Paul,  the  bachelor  apostle,  not  afflicted  with  any 
sentimentality,  admired  the  arrangement  of  a  woman's 


DRY— GOODS  RELIGION. 


303 


hair  when  he  said,  in  hid  epistle,  "  if  a  woman  have  long 
hair,  it  is  a  glory  unto  her."  There  will  be  fashion  in 
heaven  as  on  earth,  b  -  it  will  be  a  different  kind  of 
fashion.  It  will  decide  the  color  of  the  dress;  and  the 
population  of  that  country,  by  a  beautiful  law,  will  wear 
white.  I  say  these  things  as  a  background  to  my  ser- 
mon, to  show  you  that  I  have  no  prim,  precise,  prudish, 
or  cast-iron  theories  on  the  subject  of  human  apparel. 
But  the  goddess  of  fashion  has  set  up  her  throne  in  this 
country  and  at  the  sound  of  the  timbrels  we  are  all  ex- 
pected to  fall  down  and  worship.  The  old  and  new  tes- 
tament of  her  bible  are  Madame  Demoresfs  Magazine 
and  Harper- s  Bazar.  Her  altars  smoke  with  the  sac- 
rifice of  tho  bodies,  minds,  and  souls  of  ten  thousand  vic- 
tims. In  her  temple  four  people  stand  in  the  organ-loft, 
and  from  them  there  comes  down  a  cold  drizzle  of  music, 
freezing  on  the  ears  of  her  worshipers.  This  goddess 
of  fashion  has  become  a  rival  of  the  Lord  of  heaven  and 
earth,  and  it  is  high  time  that  we  unlimbered  our  bat- 
teries against  this  idolatry.  When  I  come  to  count  the 
victims  of  fashion  I  find  as  many  masculine  as  feminine. 
Men  make  an  easy  tirade  against  woman,  as  though  she 
were  the  chief  worshiper  at  this  idolatrous  shrine,  and 
no  doubt  some  men  in  the  more  conspicuous  part  of  tho 
pew  have  already  cast  glances  at  the  more  retired  part 
of  the  pew,  their  look  a  prophecy  of  a  generous  distribu- 
My  sermon  shall  be  as  appropriate  for  one  end  of  the 
pew  as  for  the  other. 

Men  are  as  much  the  idolators  of  fashion  as  women, 
but  they  sacrifice  on  a  different  part  of  the  altar.  With 
men,  the  fashion  goes  to  cigars  and  club-rooms  and  yacht- 
ing parties  and  wine  suppers.  In  the  United  States  the 
men  chew  up  and  smoke  one  hundred  millions  of  dol- 


304 


DRY-GOODS  RELIGION. 


lars'  worth  of  tobacco  every  year.  That  is  their  fashion. 
In  London,  not  long  ago,  a  man  died  who  started  in  life 
with  seven  hundred  and  fifty  thousand  dollars,  but  he  ate 
it  all  up  in  gluttonies,  sending  his  agents  to  all  parts  of 
the  earth  for  some  rare  delicacy  for  the  palate,  some- 
times one  plate  of  food  costing  him  three  or  four  hun- 
dred dollars.  He  ate  up  his  whole  fortune,  and  had  only 
one  guinea  left;  with  that  he  bought  a  woodcock,  and 
had  it  dressed  in  the  very  best  style,  ate  it,  gave  two 
hours  for  digestion,  then  walked  out  on  Westminster 
Bridge  and  threw  himself  into  the  Thames,  and  died, 
doing  on  a  large  scale  what  you  and  I  have  often  seen 
done  on  a  small  scale.  But  men  do  not  abstain  from 
millinery  and  elaboration  of  skirt  through  any  superi- 
ority of  humility.  It  is  only  because  such  appendages 
would  be  a  blockade  to  business.  What  would  sashes 
and  trains  three  and  a  half  yards  long  do  in  a  stock  mar- 
ket? And  yet  men  are  the  disciples  of  fashion  just  as 
much  as  women.  Some  of  them  wear  boots  so  tight  they 
can  hardly  walk  in  the  paths  of  righteousness.  And 
there  are  men  who  buy  expensive  suits  of  clothes  and 
never  pay  for  them,  and  who  go  through  the  streets  in 
great  stripes  of  color  like  animated  checker-boards.  Then 
there  are  multitudes  of  men  who,  not  satisfied  with  the 
bodies  the  Lord  gave  them,  are  padded  so  that  their 
shoulders  shall  be  square,  carrying  around  a  small  cot- 
ton plantation.  And  I  understand  a  great  many  of  them 
now  paint  their  eyebrows  and  their  lips,  and  I  have  heard 
from  good  authority  that  there  are  multitudes  of  men  in 
Brooklyn  and  New  York — men — things  have  got  to  such 
an  awful  pass — multitudes  of  men  wearing  corsets!  I 
eay  these  things  because  I  want  to  show  you  that  I  am 
impartial  in  my  discourse,  and  that  both  sexes,  in  the 
language  of  the  Surrogate's  office,  shall  "share  and  share 


DRY- GOODS  RELIGION. 


305 


alike."  As  God  may  help  me,  I  shall  show  you  what 
are  the  destroying  and  death ful  influences  of  inordinate 
fashion. 

The  first  baleful  influence  I  notice  is  in  fraud,  ill- 
imitable and  ghastly.  Do  you  know  that  Arnold  of 
the  Revolution  proposed  to  sell  his  country  in  order  to 
get  money  to  support  his  wife's  wardrobe?  I  declare 
here  before  God  and  this  people  that  the  effort  to  keep 
up  expensive  establishments  in  this  country  is  sending 
more  business  men  to  temporal  perdition  than  all  other 
causes  combined.  What  was  it  that  sent  Gilman  to  the 
penitentiary,  and  Philadelphia  Morton  to  the  watering 
of  stocks,  and  the  life  insurance  presidents  to  perjured 
statements  about  their  assets,  and  has  completely  upset 
our  American  finances?  What  was  it  that  overthrew 
Belknap,  the  United  States  Secretary  at  Washington,  the 
crash  of  whose  fall  shook  the  continent?  But  why  should 
I  go  to  these  famous  defaultings  to  show  what  men  will 
do  in  order  to  keep  up  great  home  style  and  expensive 
wardrobe,  when  you  and  I  know  scores  of  men  who  are 
put  to  their  wit's  end,  and  are  lashed  from  January  to 
December  in  the  attempt.  Our  Washington  politicians 
may  theorize  until  the  expiration  of  their  terms  of  office 
as  to  the  best  way  of  improving  our  monetary  condition 
in  this  country;  it  will  be  of  no  use,  and  things  will  be 
no  better  until  we  learn  to  put  on  our  heads,  and  backs, 
and  feet,  and  hands  no  more  than  we  can  pay  for. 

There  are  clerks  in  stores  and  banks  on  limited  sal- 
aries, who,  in  the  vain  attempt  to  keep  the  wardrobe  of 
their  family  as  showy  as  other  folk's  wardrobes,  are 
dying  of  muffs,  and  diamonds,  and  camel's  hair  shawls, 
and  high  hats,  and  they  have  nothing  left  except  what 
they  give  to  cigars  and  wine  suppers,  and  they  die  before 
their  time  and  they  will  expect  us  ministers  to  preach 


306 


DKY— GOODS  KKLIOION. 


about  them  as  though  they  were  the  victims  oi  early 
piety,  and  after  a  high-class  funeral,  with  silver  handles 
at  the  side  of  their  coffin,  of  extraordinary  brightness,  it 
will  be  found  out  that  the  undertaker  is  cheated  out  of 
his  legitimate  expenses!  Do  not  send  to  me  to  preach 
the  funeral  sermon  of  a  man  who  dies  like  that.  I  will 
blurt  out  the  whole  truth,  and  tell  that  he  was  strangled 
to  death  by  his  wife's  ribbons!  The  country  is  dressed 
to  death.  You  are  not  surprised  to  find  that  the  put- 
ting up  of  one  public  building  in  New  York  cost  mil- 
lions of  dollars  more  than  it  ought  to  have  cost,  when 
you  find  that  the  man  who  gave  out  the  contracts  paid 
more  than  five  thousand  dollars  for  his  daughter's  wed- 
ding dress.  Cashmeres  of  a  thousand  dollars  each  are 
not  rare  on  Broadway.  It  is  estimated  that  there  are 
five  thousand  women  in  these  two  cities  who  have  ex- 
pended on  their  personal  array  two  thousand  dollars  a 
year. 

What  are  men  to  do  in  order  to  keep  up  such  home 
wardrobes?  Steal — that  is  the  only  respectable  thing 
they  can  do!  During  the  last  fifteen  years  there  have 
been  innumerable  fine  businesses  shipwrecked  on  the 
wardrobe.  The  temptation  comes  in  this  way:  A  man 
thinks  more  of  his  family  than  of  all  the  world  outside, 
and  if  they  spend  the  evening  in  describing  to  him  the 
superior  wardrobe  of  the  family  across  the  street,  that 
they  cannot  bear  the  sight  of,  the  man  is  thrown  on  his 
gallantry  and  his  pride  of  family,  and,  without  translat- 
ing his  feelings  into  plain  language,  he  goes  into  extor- 
tion and  issuing  of  false  stock,  and  skillful  penmanship 
in  writing  somebody  else's  name  at  the  foot  of  a  prom- 
issory note;  and  they  all  go  down  together — the  husband 
to  the  prison,  the  wife  to  the  sewing  machine,  the  chil- 
dren to  be  taken  care  of  by  those  who  were  called  poor 


DRY-GOODS  RELIGION. 


relations.  O!  for  some  new  Shakespeare  to  arise  and 
write  the  tragedy  of  human  clothes. 

Act  the  first  of  the  tragedy. — A  plain  but  beautiful 
home.  Enter,  the  newly-married  pair.  Enter,  sim- 
plicity of  manner  and  behavior.  Enter,  as  much  hap- 
piness as  is  ever  found  in  one  home. 

Act  the  second. — Discontent  with  the  humble  home. 
Enter,  envy.    Enter,  jealousy.    Enter,  desire  of  display. 

Act  the  third. — Enlargement  of  expenses.  Enter,  all 
the  queenly  dressmakers.    Enter,  the  French  milliners. 

Act  the  fourth. — The  tip-top  of  society.  Enter,  princes 
and  princesses  of  New  York  life.  Enter,  magnificent 
plate  and  equipage.    Enter,  everything  splendid. 

Act  the  fifth,  and  last. — Winding  up  of  the  scene. 
Enter,  the  assignee.  Enter,  the  sheriff.  Enter,  the 
creditors.  Enter,  humiliation.  Enter,  the  wrath  of  God. 
Enter,  the  contempt  of  society.  Enter,  death.  Now, 
let  the  silk  curtain  drop  on  the  stage.  The  farce  is 
ended,  and  the  lights  are  out. 

Will  you  forgive  me  if  I  say  in  tersest  shape  possible 
that  some  of  the  men  in  this  country  have  to  forge  and 
to  perjure  and  to  swindle  to  pay  for  their  wives' dresses! 
I  will  say  it,  whether  you  forgive  me  or  not! 

Again,  inordinate  fashion  is  the  foe  of  all  Christian 
alms-giving.  Men  and  women  put  so  much  in  personal 
display  that  they  often  have  nothing  for  God  and  the 
cause  of  suffering  humanity.  A  Christian  man  cracking 
his  Palais  Royal  glove  across  the  back  by  shutting  up 
his  hand  to  hide  the  one  cent  he  puts  into  the  poor-box! 
A  Christian  woman,  at  the  story  of  the  Hottentots,  cry- 
ing copious  tears  into  a  twenty-five  dollar  handkerchief, 
and  then  giving  a  two-cent  piece  to  the  collection, 
thrusting  it  down  under  the  bills  so  people  will  not 
know  but  it  was  a  ten-dollar  gold  piece!    One  hundred 


308 


DEY-GOODS  RELIGION. 


dollars  for  incense  to  fashion.  Two  cents  for  God.  God 
gives  us  ninety  cents  out  of  every  dollar.  The  other  ten 
cents  by  command  of  His  Bible  belong  to  Him.  Is  not 
God  liberal  according  to  this  tithing  system  laid  down 
in  the  Old  Testament — is  not  God  liberal  in  giving  us 
ninety  cents  out  of  a  dollar,  when  he  takes  but  ten?  We 
do  not  like  that.  We  want  to  have  ninety-nine  cents  for 
ourselves  and  one  for  God. 

Now,  I  would  a  great  deal  rather  steal  ten  cents  from 
you  than  God.  I  think  one  reason  why  a  great  many 
people  do  not  get  along  in  worldly  accumulation  faster 
is  because  they  do  not  observe  this  divine  rule.  God 
says:  "  Well,  if  that  man  is  not  satisfied  with  ninety 
cents  of  a  dollar,  then  I  will  take  the  whole  dollar,  and  I 
will  give  it  to  the  man  or  woman  who  is  honest  with 
me."  The  greatest  obstacle  to  charity  in  the  Christian 
church  to-day  is  the  fact  that  men  expend  so  much 
mone}7  on  their  table,  and  women  so  much  on  their 
dress,  they  have  got  nothing  left  for  the  work  of  God  and 
the  world's  betterment.  In  my  first  settlement  at  Belle- 
ville, New  Jersey,  the  cause  of  missions  was  being  pre- 
sented one  Sabbath,  and  a  plea  for  the  charity  of  the 
people  was  being  made,  when  an  old  Christian  man  in 
the  audience  lost  his  balance,  and  said  right  out  in  the 
midst  of  the  sermon:  "Mr.  Talmage,  how  are  we  to 
give  liberally  to  these  grand  and  glorious  causes  when 
our  families  dress  as  they  do?"  I  did  not  answer  that 
question.  It  was  the  only  time  in  my  life  when  I  had 
nothing  to  say!_ 

Again,  inordinate  fashion  is  distraction  to  public  wor- 
ship. You  know  very  well  there  are  a  good  many  peo- 
ple who  come  to  church  just  as  they  go  to  the  races,  to 
see  who  will  come  out  first.  What  a  flutter  it  makes  in 
church  when  some  woman  with  extraordinary  display  of 


DRY-GOODS  RELIGION. 


309 


fashion  comes  in.  "What  a  love  of  a  bonnet!"  says 
someone.  "  What  a  perfect  fright!"  say  five  hundred. 
For  the  most  merciless  critics  in  the  world  are  fashion 
critics.  Men  and  women  with  souls  to  be  saved  passing 
the  hour  in  wondering  where  that  man  got  his  cravat,  or 
what  store  that  woman  patronizes.  In  many  of  our 
churches  the  preliminary  exercises  are  taken  up  with  the 
discussion  of  wardrobes.  It  is  pitiable.  Is  it  not  won- 
derful that  the  Lord  does  not  strike  the  meeting-houses 
with  lightning!  What  distraction  of  public  worship! 
Dying  men  and  women,  whose  bodies  are  soon  to  be 
turned  into  dust,  yet  before  three  worlds  strutting  like 
peacocks,  the  awful  question  of  the  soul's  destiny  sub- 
merged by  the  question  of  Creed  mo  re  polonaise,  and 
navy  blue  velvet  and  long  fan  train  skirt,  long  enough 
to  drag  up  the  church  aisle,  the  husband's  store,  office, 
shop,  factory,  fortune,  and  the  admiration  of  half  the 
people  in  the  building.  Men  and  women  come  late  to 
church  to  show  their  clothes.  People  sitting  down  in  a 
pew  or  taking  up  a  hymn  book,  all  absorbed  at  the  same 
time  in  personal  array,  to  sing: 

"  Rise,  my  soul,  and  stretch  thy  wings. 

Thy  better  portion  trace ; 
Rise  from  transitory  things, 

Toward  heaven,  thy  native  place!" 

I  adopt  the  Episcopalian  prayer  and  say:  "  Good  Lord 
deliver  us!" 

Insatiate  fashion  also  belittles  the  intellect.  Our 
minds  are  enlarged  or  they  dwindle  just  in  proportion 
to  the  importance  of  the  subject  on  which  we  constantly 
dwell.  Can  you  imagine  anything  more  dwarfing  to 
the  human  intellect  than  the  study  of  fashion?  I  see 
men  on  the  street  who,  judging  from  their  elaboration, 
I  think  must  have  taken  two  hours  to  arrange  their 


310  DKY— GOODS  RELIGION. 

apparel.  After  a  few  years  of  that  kind  of  absorption, 
which  one  of  McAllister's  magnifying  glasses  will  be 
powerful  enough  to  make  the  man's  character  visible? 
What  will  be  left  of  a  woman's  intellect  after  giving 
years  and  years  to  the  discussion  of  such  questions  as 
the  comparison  between  knife-pleats  and  box-pleats,  and 
borderings  of  grey  fox  fur  or  black  martin,  or  the  com- 
parative excellence  of  circulars  of  repped  Antwerp  silk 
lined  with  blue  fox  fur  or  with  Hudson  Bay  sable?  They 
all  land  in  idiocy.  I  have  seen  men  at  the  summer  water- 
ing-places, through  fashion  the  mere  wreck  of  what  they 
once  were.  Sallow  of  cheek.  Meagre  of  limb.  Hollow 
at  the  chest.  Showing  no  animation  save  in  rushing 
across  a  room  to  pick  up  a  lady's  fan.  Simpering  along 
the  corridors,  the  same  compliments  they  simpered 
twenty  years  ago.  A  New  York  lawyer  last  summer 
at  United  States  Hotel,  Saratoga,  within  our  hearing, 
rushed  across  a  room  to  say  to  a  sensible  woman,  kt  You 
are  as  sweet  as  peaches!"  The  fools  of  fashion  are 
myriad.  Fashion  not  only  destroys  the  body,  but  it 
makes  idiotic  the  intellect. 

Yet,  my  friends,  I  have  given  you  only  the  milder 
phase  of  this  evil.  It  shuts  a  great  multitude  out  of 
heaven.  The  first  peal  of  thunder  that  shook  Sinai 
declared:  "  Thou  shalt  have  no  other  God  before  me," 
and  you  will  have  to  choose  between  the  goddess  of 
fashion  and  the  Christian  God.  There  are  a  great  many 
seats  in  heaven,  and  they  are  all  easy  seats,  but  not  one 
seat  for  the  devotee  of  fashion.  Heaven  is  for  meek  and 
quiet  spirits.  Heaven  is  for  those  who  think  more  of 
their  souls  than  of  their  bodies.  Heaven  is  for  those 
who  have  more  joy  in  Christian  charity  than  in  dry- 
goods  religion.  Why,  if  you  with  your  idolatry  of 
fashion  should  somehow  get  into  heaven,  you  would  be 


DRY-GOODS  RELIGION. 


311 


for  putting  a  French  roof  on  the  "house  of  many  man- 
sions," and  making  plaits  and  Hamburg  embroidery 
and  flounces  in  the  robes,  and  yon  would  be  for  intro- 
ducing the  patterns  of  Butterick's  Quarterly  Delineator. 
Give  up  this  idolatry  of  fashion,  or  give  up  heaven. 
What  would  you  do  standing  beside  the  Countess  of 
Huntington,  whose  joy  it  was  to  build  chapels  for  the 
poor,  or  with  that  Christian  woman  of  Boston,  who  fed 
fifteen  hundred  children  of  the  street  at  Faneuil  Hall  on 
New  Year's  Day,  giving  out  as  a  sort  of  doxology  at  the 
end  of  the  meeting  a  pair  of  shoes  to  each  one  of  them; 
or  those  Dorcases  of  modern  society  who  have  conse- 
crated their  needles  to  the  Lord,  and  who  will  get  eternal 
reward  for  every  stitch  they  take.  O!  men  and  women, 
give  up  the  idolatry  of  fashion.  The  rivalries  and  the 
competitions  of  such  a  life  are  a  stupendous  wretched- 
ness. You  will  always  find  some  one  with  brighter  array 
and  with  more,  palatial  residence,  and  with  lavender  kid 
gloves  that  make  a  tighter  fit.  And  if  you  buy  this 
thing  and  wear  it  you  will  wish  you  had  bought  some- 
thing else  and  worn  it.  And  the  frets  of  such  a  life  will 
bring  the  crows'  feet  to  your  temples  before  they  are  due, 
and  when  you  come  to  die  you  will  have  a  miserable 
time.  I  have  seen  men  and  women  of  fashion  die,  and 
[  never  saw  one  of  them  die  well.  The  trappings  off, 
there  they  lay  on  the  tumbled  pillow,  and  there  were  just 
two  things  that  bothered  them — a  wasted  life  and  a  com- 
ing eternity.  I  could  not  pacify  them,  for  their  body* 
mind,  and  soul,  had  been  exhausted  in  the  worship  of 
fashion,  and  they  could  not  appreciate  the  gospel.  When 
I  knelt  by  their  bedside  they  were  mumbling  out  their 
regrets  and  saying,  "  O  God!  O  God!"  Their  garments 
hung  up  in  the  wardrobe,  never  again  to  be  seen  by  them. 
Without  any  exception,  so  far  as  my  memory  serves  me, 


312 


DRY  -GOODS  KELIGION. 


they  died  without  hope,  and  went  into  eternity  unpre- 
pared. The  two  most  ghastly  death- beds  on  earth  are, 
the  one  where  a  man  dies  of  delirium  tremens,  and  the 
other  where  a  woman  dies  after  having  sacrificed  all 
her  faculties  of  body,  mind,  and  soul  in  the  worship  of 
fashion.  My  friends,  we  must  appear  in  judgment  to 
answer  for  what  we  have  worn  on  our  bodies  as  well  as 
for  what  repentances  we  have  exercised  with  our  souls. 
On  that  day  I  see  coming  in, Beau  Brummel  of  the  last 
century,  without  his  cloak,  like  which  all  England  got  a 
cloak;  and  without  his  cane,  like  which  all  England  got 
a  cane;  without  his  snuff-box,  like  which  all  England 
got  a  snuff-box — he,  the  fop  of  the  ages,  particular  about 
everything  but  his  morals;  and  Aaron  Burr,  without 
the  letters  that  down  to  old  age  he  showed  in  pride,  to 
prove  his  early  wicked  gallantries;  and  Absalom  without 
his  hair;  and  Marchioness  Pompadour  without  her  titles; 
and  Mrs.  Arnold,  the  belle  of  Wall  street,  when  that 
was  the  center  of  fashion,  without  her  fripperies  of 
vesture. 

And  in  great  haggardness  they  shall  go  away  into 
eternal  expatriation;  while  among  the  queens  of  heaven- 
ly society  will  be  found  Yashti,  who  wore  the  modest 
veil  before  the  palatial  bacchanalians;  and  Hannah,  who 
annually  made  a  little  coat  for  Samuel  at  the  temple;  and 
Grandmother  Lois,  the  ancestress  of  Timothy,  who  imi- 
tated her  virtue;  and  Mary,  who  gave  Jesus  Christ  to 
the  world;  and  many  of  you,  the  wives  and  mothers  and 
sisters  and  daughters  of  the  present  Christian  Church, 
who  through  great  tribulation  are  entering  into  the 
kingdom  of  God.  Christ  announced  who  would  make 
up  the  royal  family  of  heaven  when  he  said,  "  Whoso- 
ever doeth  the  will  of  God,  the  same  is  my  brother,  my 
sister,  my  mother." 


THE  BESERV0IR8  SALTED. 


313 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

THE  RESERVOIRS  SALTED. 

"  And  the  men  of  the  city  said  unto  Elisha,  Behold,  I  pray  thee,  the 
situation  of  this  city  is  pleasant,  as  my  Lord  seeth;  but  the  water  is 
naught,  and  the  ground  barren  And  he  said,  Bring  me  a  new  cruse, 
and  put  salt  therein.  And  they  brought  it  to  him.  And  he  went 
forth  unto  the  spring  of  the  waters,  and  east  the  salt  in  there,  and  said, 
Thus  saith  the  Lord,  I  have  healed  these  waters;  there  shall  not  be 
from  thence  any  more  death  or  barren  land.  So  the  waters  were 
healed  unto  this  day." — 2  Kings  ii ;  19-22. 

It  is  difficult  to  estimate  how  much  of  the  prosperity 
and  health  of  a  city  are  dependent  upon  good  water. 
The  day  when,  through  well-laid  pipes  and  from  safe 
reservoir,  an  abundance  of  water,  from  Croton  or  Ridge- 
wood,  is  brought  into  the  city,  is  appropriately  celebrated 
with  oration  and  pyrotechnic  display.  Thank  God  every 
day  for  clear,  bright,  beautiful,  sparkling  water,  as  it 
drops  in  the  shower,  or  tosses  up  in  the  fountain,  or 
rushes  out  at  the  hydrant. 

The  city  of  Jericho,  notwithstanding  all  its  physical 
and  commercial  advantages,  was  lacking  in  this  impor- 
tant clement.  There  was  enough  water,  but  it  was  dis- 
eased, and  the  people  were  crying  out  by  reason  thereof. 
Elisha  the  prophet  comes  to  the  rescue.  He  says:  "  Get 
me  a  new  cruse;  fill  it  with  salt  and  bring  it  to  me.v 
So  the  cruse  of  salt  was  brought  to  the  prophet,  and  I 
see  him  walking  out  to  the  general  reservoir,  and  he 
takes  that  salt  and  throws  it  into  the  reservoir,  and  lo! 
all  the  impurities  depart,  through  a  supernatural  and 


314 


THE   RESERVOIRS  SALTED. 


divine  influence,  and  the  waters  are  good  and  fresh  and 
clear,  and  all  the  people  clap  their  hands  and  lift  up 
their  faces  in  their  gladness.  Water  for  Jericho — clear, 
bright,  beautiful,  God-given  water! 

For  several  Sabbath  mornings  I  have  pointed  out  to 
you  the  fountains  of  municipal  corruption,  and  this 
morning  I  propose  to  show  you  what  are  the  means  for 
the  rectification  of  those  fountains.  There  are  four  or 
five  kinds  of  salt  that  have  a  cleansing  tendency.  So  far 
as  God  may  help  me  this  morning,  1  shall  bring  a  cruse 
of  salt  to  the  work,  and  empty  it  into  the  great  reservoir 
of  municipal  crime,  sin,  shame,  ignorance,  and  abomina- 
tion. 

In  this  work  of  cleansing  our  cities,  I  have  first  to  re- 
mark that  there  is  a  vjork  for  the  broom  and  the  shovel 
that  nothing  else  can  do.  There  always  has  been  an  inti- 
mate connection  between  iniquity  and  dirt.  The  filthy 
parts  of  the  great  cities  are  always  the  most  iniquitous 
parts.  The  gutters  and  the  pavements  of  the  Fourth 
Ward,  New  York,  illustrate  and  symbolize  the  character 
of  the  people  in  the  Fourth  Ward. 

The  first  thing  that  a  bad  man  does  when  he  is  con- 
verted is  thoroughly  to  wash  himself.  There  were,  this 
morning,  on  the  way  to  the  different  churches,  thousands 
of  men  in  proper  apparel  who,  before  their  conversion, 
were  unfit  in  their  Sabbath  dress.  When  on  the  Sab- 
bath I  see  a  man  uncleanly  in  his  dress,  my  suspicions 
in  regard  to  his  moral  character  are  aroused,  and  they 
are  always  well  lounded.  So  as  to  allow  no  excuse  for 
lack  of  ablution,  God  has  cleft  the  continents  with  rivers 
and  lakes,  and  has  sunk  five  great  oceans,  and  all  the 
world  ought  to  be  clean.  Away,  then,  with  the  dirt  from 
our  cities,  not  only  because  the  physical  health  needs  an 
ablution,  but  because  all  the  great  moral  and  religious 


THE  RESERVOIRS  8ALTKD. 


315 


interests  of  the  cities  demand  it  as  a  positive  necessity. 
A  filthy  city  always  has  been  and  always  will  be  a  wicked 
city. 

Another  corrective  influence  that  we  would  bring  to 
bear  upon  the  evils  of  our  great  cities  is  a  Christian 
printing-press.  The  newspapers  of  any  place  are  the 
test  of  its  morality  or  immorality.  The  newsboy  who 
runs  along  the  street  with  a  roll  of  papers  under  his  arm 
is  a  tremendous  force  that  cannot  be  turned  aside  nor 
resisted,  and  at  his  every  step  the  city  is  elevated  or  de- 
graded. This  hungry,  all-devouring  American  mind 
must  have  something  to  read,  and  upon  editors  and 
authors  and  book-publishers  and  parents  and  teachers 
rest  the  responsibility  of  what  they  shall  read.  Almost 
every  man  you  meet  has  a  book  in  his  hand  or  a  news- 
paper in  his  pocket.  What  book  is  it  you  have  in  your 
hand?  What  newspaper  is  it  you  have  in  your  pocket  ? 
Ministers  may  preach,  reformers  may  plan,  philan- 
thropists may  toil  for  the  elevation  of  the  suffering  and 
the  criminal,  but  until  all  the  newspapers  of  the  land 
and  all  the  booksellers  of  the  land  set  themselves  against 
an  iniquitous  literature — until  then  we  will  be  fighting 
against  fearful  odds.  Every  time  the  cylinders  of  Har- 
per or  Appleton  or  Ticknor  or  Peterson  or  Lippincott 
turn,  they  make  the  earth  quake.  From  them  goes  forth 
a  thought  like  an  angel  of  light  to  feed  and  bless  the 
world,  or  like  an  angel  of  darkness  to  smite  it  with  cor- 
ruption and  sin  and  shame  and  death.  May  God  by  His 
omnipotent  Spirit  purify  and  elevate  the  American 
printing-press! 

I  go  on  further  and  say  that  ice  must  depend  upon  the 
school  for  a  great  deal  of  correcting  influence.  Com- 
munity can  no  more  afford  to  have  ignurant  men  in  its 
midst  than  it  can  afford  to  have  uncaged  hyenas.  Igner- 


316 


THE  RESERVOfRS  SALTED. 


ance  is  the  mother  of  hydra-headed  crime.  Thirty-one 
per  cent,  of  all  the  criminals  of  New  York  State  can 
neither  read  nor  write.  Intellectual  darkness  is  generally 
the  precursor  of  moral  darkness.  I  know  there  are  edu- 
cated outlaws — men  who,  through  their  sharpness  of  in- 
tellect, are  made  more  dangerous.  They  use  their  fine 
penmanship  in  signing  other  people's  names,  and  their 
science  in  ingenious  burglaries,  and  their  fine  manners 
in  adroit  libertinism.  They  go  their  round  of  sin  with 
well-cut  apparel,  and  dangling  jewelry,  and  watches  of 
eighteen  karats,  and  kid  gloves.  They  are  refined,  edu- 
cated, magnificent  villains.  But  that  is  the  exception. 
It  is  generally  the  case  that  the  criminal  classes  are  as 
ignorant  as  they  are  wicked.  For  the  proof  of  what  I 
say,  go  into  the  prisons  and  the  penitentiaries,  and  look 
upon  the  men  and  women  incarcerated.  The  dishonesty 
in  the  eye,  the  low  passion  in  the  lip,  are  not  more  con- 
spicuous than  the  ignorance  in  the  forehead.  The  igno- 
rant classes  are  always  the  dangerous  classes.  Dema- 
gogues marshal  them.  They  are  helmless,  and  are  driven 
before  the  gale. 

It  is  high  time  that  all  city  and  State  authority,  as  well 
as  the  Federal  Government,  appreciated  the  awful  sta- 
tistic that  while  years  ago  in  this  country  there  was  set 
apart  forty-eight  millions  of  acres  of  land  for  school  pur- 
poses, there  are  now  in  New  England  one  hundred  and 
ninety-one  thousand  people  who  can  neither  read  nor 
write,  and  in  the  State  of  Pennsylvania  two  hundred  and 
twenty-two  thousand  who  can  neither  read  nor  write, 
and  in  the  State  of  New  York  two  hundred  and  forty- 
one  thousand  who  can  neither  read  nor  write,  while  in 
the  United  States  there  are  nearly  six  millions  who  can 
neither  read  nor  write.  A  statistic  enough  to  stagger 
and  confound  any  man  who  loves  his  God  and  his  country. 


THE  RESERVOIRS  SALTEE, 


317 


Now,  in  view  of  this  fact,  I  am  in  favor  of  compulsory 
education.  The  Eleventh  ward,  in  New  York,  has  five 
thousand  children  who  are  not  in  school.  When  parents 
are  so  bestial  as  to  neglect  this  duty  to  the  child,  I  say 
the  law,  with  a  strong  hand,  at  the  same  time  with  a 
gentle  hand,  ought  to  lead  these  little  ones  into  the  light 
of  intelligence  and  good  morals.  It  was  a  beautiful  tab- 
leau when  in  our  city  a  few  weeks  ago,  a  swarthy  police- 
man having  picked  up  a  lost  child  in  the  street,  was 
found  appeasing  its  cries  by  a  stick  of  candy  he  had 
bought  at  the  apple-stand.  That  was  well  done,  and 
beautifully  done.  But,  oh!  these  thousands  of  little  ones 
through  our  streets,  who  are  crying  for  the  bread  of 
knowledge  and  intelligence.  Shall  we  not  give  it  to  them  ? 
The  officers  of  the  law  ought  to  go  down  into  the  cellars, 
and  up  into  the  garrets,  and  bring  out  these  benighted  lit- 
tle ones,  and  put  them  under  educational  inflences;  after 
they  have  passed  through  the  bath  and  under  the  comb, 
putting  before  them  the  spelling-book,  and  teaching  them 
to  read  the  Lord's  Prayer  and  the  sermon  on  the  Mount: 
"Blessed  are  the  poor  in  spirit,  for  theirs  is  the  kingdom 
of  heaven."  Our  city  ought  to  be  lather  and  mother 
both  to  these  outcast  little  ones.  As  a  recipe  for  the  cure 
of  much  of  the  woe  and  want  and  crime  of  our  city,  I 
give  the  words  which  Thorwaldsen  had  chiseled  on  the 
open  scroll  in  the  hand  of  the  statue  of  John  Gutenberg, 
the  inventor  of  the  art  of  printing:  "  Let  there  be  light!" 

Still  further:  reformatory  societies  are  an  important 
element  in  the  rectification  of  the  public  fountains. 
Without  calling  any  of  them  by  name,  I  refer  more 
especially  to  those  which  recognize  the  physical  as  well 
as  the  moral  woes  of  the  world.  There  was  pathos  and 
a  great  deal  of  common  sense  in  what  the  poor  woman 
said  to  Dr.  Guthrie  when  he  was  telling  her  what  a  very 


318 


THE  RESERVOIRS  SALTED. 


good  woman  she  ought  to  be.  "  Oh,"  she  said,  "  if  you 
were  as  hungry  and  cold  as  I  am,  you  could  think  of 
nothing  else."  I  believe  the  great  want  of  our  city  is 
the  G-ospel  and  something  to  eat!  Faith  and  repentance 
are  of  infinite  importance;  but  they  cannot  satisfy  an 
empty  stomach!  You  have  to  go  forth  in  this  work  with 
the  bread  of  eternal  life  in  your  right  hand,  and  the  bread 
of  this  life  in  your  left  hand,  and  then  you  can  touch 
them,  imitating  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  who  first  broke 
the  bread  and  fed  the  multitude  in  the  wilderness,  and 
then  began  to  preach,  recognizing  the  fact  that  while 
people  are  hungry  they  will  not  listen,  and  they  will  not 
repent.  We  want  more  common  sense  in  the  distribu- 
tion of  our  charities;  fewer  magnificent  theories,  and 
more  hard  work.  In  the  last  war,  a  few  hours  after  the 
battle  of  Antietam,  I  had  a  friend  who  was  moving  over 
the  field,  and  who  saw  a  good  Christian  man  distributing 
tracts.  My  friend  said  to  him:  "  This  is  no  time  to  dis- 
tribute tracts.  There  are  three  thousand  men  around 
here  who  are  bleeding  to  death,  who  have  not  had  ban- 
dages put  on.  Take  care  of  their  bodies,  then  give  them 
tracts."  That  was  well  said.  Look  after  the  woes  of 
the  body,  and  then  you  will  have  some  success  in  look- 
ing after  the  woes  of  the  soul. 

Still  further:  the  great  remedial  influence  is  the  Gos- 
pel of  Christ.  Take  that  down  through  the  lanes  of 
suffering.  Take  that  down  amid  the  hovels  of  sin.  Take 
that  up  amid  the  mansions  and  palaces  of  your  city.  That 
is  the  salt  that  can  cure  all  the  poisoned  fountains  of  pub- 
lic iniquity.  Do  you  know  that  in  this  cluster  of  three 
cities,  New  York,  Jersey  City,  and  Brooklyn,  there  are 
a  great  multitude  of  homeless  children  ?  You  see  I  speak 
more  in  regard  to  the  youth  and  the  children  of  the 
country,  because  old  villains  are  seldom  reformed,  and 


THE  RESERVOIRS  SALTED. 


319 


therefore  I  talk  more  about  the  little  ones.  They  sleep 
under  the  stoops,  in  the  burned-out  safe,  in  the  wagons 
in  the  streets,  on  the  barges,  wherever  they  can  get  a 
board  to  cover  them.  And  in  the  summer  they  sleep  all 
night  long  in  the  parks.  Their  destitution  is  well  set 
forth  by  an  incident.  A  city  missionary  asked  one  of 
them:  "Where  is  your  home?''  Said  he:  "I  don't  have 
no  home,  sir."  "Well,  where  are  your  father  and 
mother?"  "They  are  dead,  sir."  "  Did  you  ever  hear 
of  Jesus  Christ?"  "No,  I  don't  think  I  ever  heard  of 
him."  "Did  you  ever  hear  of  God.  Yes,  I've  heard  of 
God.  Some  of  the  poor  people  think  it  kind  of  lucky 
at  night  to  say  something  over  about  that  before  they 
goto  sleep.  Yes,  sir,  I've  heard  of  him."  Think  of  a 
conversation  like  that  in  a  Christian  city. 

How  many  are  waiting  for  you  to  come  out  in  the 
spirit  of  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ  and  rescue  them  from 
the  wretchedness  here  !  A  man  was  trying  to  talk  with 
a  group  of  these  outcasts,  and  read  the  Bible,  and  trying 
to  comfort  them,  and  he  said:  "My  dear  boys,  when  your 
father  and  your  mother  forsake  you,  who  will  take  you 
up?"  They  shouted  "The  perlice,  sir;  the  perlice? "  Oh 
that  the  Church  of  God  had  arms  lon^  enough  and  hearts 
warm  enough  to  take  them  up.  How  many  of  them 
there  are!  As  I  was  thinking  of  the  subject  this  morning, 
it  seemed  to  me  as  though  there  was  a  great  brink,  and 
that  these  little  ones  with  cut  and  torn  feet  were  coming 
on  toward  it.  And  here  is  a  group  of  orphans.  O  fathers 
and  mothers,  what  do  you  think  of  these  fatherless  and 
motherless  little  ones  ?  No  hand  at  home  to  take  care 
of  their  apparel,  no  heart  to  pity  them.  Said  one  little 
one,  when  the  mother  died:  "Who  will  take  care  of  my 
clothes  now  ?  "  The  little  ones  are  thrown  out  in  this 
great,  cold  world.    They  are  shivering  on  the  brink  like 


320 


THE  RESERVOIRS  SALTED. 


lambs  on  the  verge  of  a  precipice.  Does  not  your  blood 
run  cold  as  they  go  over  it  ? 

And  here  is  another  group  that  come  on  toward  the 
precipice.  They  are  the  children  of  besotted  parents. 
They  are  worse  off  than  orphans.  Look  at  that  pale 
cheek:  woe  bleached  it.  Look  at  that  gash  across  the 
forehead;  the  father  struck  it.  Hear  that  heart-piercing 
cry:  a  drunken  mother's  blasphemy  compelled  it.  And  we 
come  out  and  we  say:  "O  ye  suffering,  peeled  and 
blistered  ones,  we  come  to  help  you."  "  Too  late!"  cry 
thousands  of  voices.  "  The  path  we  travel  is  steep  down, 
and  we  can't  stop.  Too  late!"  and  we  catch  our  breath 
and  we  make  a  terrific  outcry.  "  Too  late!"  is  echoed 
from  the  garret  to  the  cellar,  from  the  gin-shop  and 
from  the  brothel.  "  Too  late!"  It  is  too  late,  and  they 
go  oyer. 

Here  is  another  group,  an  army  of  neglected  children. 
They  come  on  toward  the  brink,  and  every  time  they 
step  ten  thousand  hearts  break.  The  ground  is  red  with 
the  blood  of  their  feet.  The  air  is  heavy  with  their 
groans.  Their  ranks  are  being  filled  up  from  all  the 
houses  of  iniquity  and  shame.  Skeleton  Despair  pushes 
them  on  toward  the  brink.  The  death-knell  has  already 
begun  to  toll,  and  the  angels  of  God  hover  like  birds 
over  the  plunge  of  a  cataract.  While  these  children 
are  on  the  brink  they  halt,  and  throw  out  their  hands, 
and  cry:  "Help!  help!"  O  church  of  God,  will  you 
help?  Men  and  women  bought  by  the  blood  of  the  Son 
of  God,  will  you  help?  while  Christ  cries  from  the 
heavens:  "  Save  them  from  going  down;  I  am  the 
ransom." 

I  stopped  the  other  day  on  the  street  and  just  looked 
at  the  face  of  one  of  those  little  ones.  Have  you  ever 
examined  the  faces  of  the  neglected  children  of  the 


X 

THE  RESERVOIRS  SALTED. 


321 


poor?  Other  children  have  gladness  in  their  faces. 
When  a  group  of  them  rush  across  the  road,  it  seems  as 
though  a  spring  gust  had  unloosened  an  orchard  of  apple 
blossoms.  But  these  children  of  the  poor.  There  is  but 
little  ring  in  their  laughter,  and  it  stops  quick,  as  though 
some  bitter  memory  tripped  it.  They  have  an  old  walk. 
They  do  not  skip  or  run  up  on  the  lumber  just  for  the 
pleasure  of  leaping  down.  They  never  bathed  in  the 
mountain  stream.  They  never  waded  in  the  brook  for 
pebbles.  They  never  chased  the  butterfly  across  the 
lawn,  putting  their  hat  right  down  where  it  was. 
Childhood  has  been  dashed  out  of  them.  Want  waved 
its  wizard  wand  above  the  manger  of  their  birth,  and 
withered  leaves  are  lying  where  God  intended  a  budding 
giant  of  battle.  Once  in  a  while  one  of  these  children 
gets  out.  Here  is  one,  for  instance.  At  ten  years  of  age 
he  is  sent  out  by  his  parents,  who  say  to  him;  "Here 
is  a  basket — now  go  off  and  beg  and  steal."  The  boy 
says:  "  I  can't  steal/'  They  kick  him  into  a  corner. 
That  night  he  puts  his  swollen  head  into  the  straw;  but 
a  voice  comes  from  heaven,  saying,  "  Courage,  poor  boy, 
courage."  Covering  up  his  head  from  the  bestiality, 
and  stopping  his  ears  from  the  cursing,  he  gets  on  up 
better  and  better.  He  washes  his  face  clean  at  the  public 
hydrant.  With  a  few  pennies  got  at  running  errands, 
he  gets  a  better  coat.  Rough  men,  knowing  that  he 
comes  from  the  Five  Points,  say:  "  Back  with  you,  you 
little  villain,  to  the  place  wheje  you  came  from."  But 
that  night  the  boy  says:  u  God  help  me,  I  can't  go 
back;"  and  quicker  than  ever  mother  new  at  the  cry  of 
a  child's  pain,  the  Lord  responds  from  the  heavens, 
"Courage,  poor  boy,  courage."  His  bright  face  gets 
him  a  position.  After  awhile  he  is  second  clerk.  Years 
pass  on,  and  he  is  first  clerk.  Years  pass  on.  Th^ 
21 


322 


THE   fctKSEKVOIRS  SALTED. 


glory  ot'  young  manhood  is  on  him.  He  coines  into  the 
firm.  He  goes  on  from  one  business  success  to  another. 
He  has  achieved  great  fortune.  He  is  the  friend  of  the 
church  of  God,  the  friend  of  all  good  institutions,  and 
one  day  he  stands  talking  to  the  Board  of  Trade  or  to 
the  Chamber  of  Commerce.  People  say:  "  Do  you  know 
who  that  is?  Why,  that  is  a  merchant  prince,  and  he 
was  born  in  the  Five  Points. "  But  God  says  in  regard  to 
him  something  better  than  that:  "  These  are  they 
which  came  out  of  great  tribulation,  and  had  their 
robes  washed  and  made  white  in  the  blood  of  the 
Lamb."  Oh,  for  some  one  to  write  the  history  of  boy 
heroes  and  girl  heroines  who  have  triumphed  over  want 
and  starvation  and  filth  and  rags.  Yea,  the  record  has 
already  been  made — made  by  the  hand  of  God;  and 
when  these  shall  come  at  last  with  songs  and  rejoicing, 
it  will  take  a  very  broad  banner  to  hold  the  names  of  all 
the  battle-fields  on  which  they  got  the  victory. 

Some  years  ago,  a  roughly-clad,  ragged  boy  came  into 
my  brother's  office  in  Xew  York,  and  said:  "  Mr.  Tal- 
mage,  lend  me  five  dollars."  My  brother  said:  "  Who 
are  you?"  The  boy  replied:  "  I  am  nobody.  Lend  me 
five  dollars."  "What  do  you  want  to  do  with  five 
dollars?"  "  Well."  the  boy  replied,  "  my  mother  is  sick 
and  poor,  and  I  want  to  go  into  the  newspaper  business, 
and  I  shall  get  a  home  for  her,  and  I  will  pay  you  back." 
My  brother  gave  him  the  five  dollars,  of  course  never 
expecting  to  see  it  again;  but  he  said:  "  When  will  you 
pay  it?"  The  boy  said:  "I  will  pay  it  in  six  months, 
sir."  Time  went  by,  and  one  day  a  lad  came  into  my 
brother's  office,  and  said:  *4  There's  your  five  dollars." 
"  What  do  you  mean?  What  five  dollars?"  inquired  my 
brother.  "  Don't  you  remember  that  a  boy  came  in  here 
six  months  ago  and  wanted  to  borrow  five  dollars  to  go 


THE  RESERVOIRS  SALTED. 


323 


into  the  newspaper  business?"  "Oh,  yes,  I  remember. 
Are  you  the  lad?"  "Yes,"  he  replied.  "I  have  got 
along  nicely.  I  have  got  a  nice  home  for  my  mother 
(she  is  sick  yet),  and  I  am  as  well  clothed  as  you  are,  and 
there's  your  five  dollars."  Oh,  was  he  not  worth  saving? 
"Why,  that  lad  is  worth  fifty  such  boys  as  I  have  some- 
times seen  moving  in  elegant  circles,  never  put  to  any 
use  for  God  or  man.  Worth  saving!  I  go  farther  than 
that,  and  tell  you  they  are  not  only  worth  saving,  but 
they  are  being  saved.  In  one  reform  school,  through 
which  two  thousand  of  these  little  ones  passed,  one 
thousand  nine  hundred  and  ninety-five  turned  out  well. 
In  other  words,  only  five  of  the  two  thousand  turned  out 
badly.  There  are  thousands  of  them  who,  through  Chris- 
tian societies,  have  been  transplanted  to  beautiful  homes 
all  over  this  land,  and  there  are  many  who,  through  the 
rich  grace  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  have  already  won 
the  crown.  A  little  girl  was  found  in  the  streets  of  Bal- 
timore  and  taken  into  one  of  the  reform  societies,  and 
they  said  to  her,  "  What  is  your  name?"  She  said,  "  My 
name  is  Mary."  "  What  is  }Tour  other  name?"  She  said, 
* 1  don't  know."  So  they  took  her  into  the  reform 
society,  and  as  they  did  not  know  her  last  name  they 
always  called  her  "  Mary  Lost,"  since  she  had  been 
picked  up  out  of  the  street.  But  she  grew  on,  and  after 
a  while  the  Holy  Spirit  came  to  her  heart,  and  she  be- 
came a  Christian  child,  and  she  changed  her  name;  and 
when  anybody  asked  her  what  her  name  was,  she  said, 
"  It  used  to  be  Mary  Lost;  but  now,  since  I  have  become 
a  Christian,  it  is  Mary  Found." 

For  this  vast  multitude,  are  we  willing  to  go  forth 
from  this  morning's  service  and  see  what  we  can  do, 
employing  all  the  agencies  I  have  spoken  of  for  the  recti- 
fication of  the  poisoned  fountains  ?    We  live  in  a  beautiful 


324 


THE  RESEKVOIRS  SALTED. 


city.  The  lines  have  fallen  to  us  in  pleasant  places,  and 
we  have  a  goodly  heritage;  and  any  man  who  does  not 
like  a  residence  in  Brooklyn,  must  be  a  most  uncom- 
fortable and  unreasonable  man.  But,  my  friends,  the 
material  prosperity  of  a  city  is  not  its  chief  glory.  There 
may  be  fine  houses  and  beautiful  streets,  and  that  all  be 
the  garniture  of  a  sepulcher.  Some  of  the  most  pros- 
perous cities  of  the  world  have  gone  down,  not  one  stone 
left  upon  another.  But  a  city  may  be  in  ruins  long  be- 
fore a  tower  has  fallen,  or  a  column  has  crumbled,  or  a 
tomb  has  been  defaced.  When  in  a  city  the  churches  of 
God  are  full  of  cold  formalities  and  inanimate  religion; 
when  the  houses  of  commerce  are  the  abode  of  fraud  and 
unholy  traffic;  when  the  streets  are  filled  with  crime  un- 
arrested and  sin  unenlightened  and  helplessness  unpitied 
— that  city  is  in  ruins,  though  every  church  were  a  St. 
Peter's,  and  every  moneyed  institution  were  a  Bank  of 
England,  and  every  library  were  a  British  Museum,  and 
every  house  had  a  porch  like  that  of  Rheims  and  a  roof 
like  that  of  Amiens  and  a  tower  like  that  of  Antwerp, 
and  traceried  windows  like  those  of  Freiburg. 

My  brethren,  our  pulses  beat  rapid^  the  time  away, 
and  soon  we  will  be  gone;  and  what  we  have  to  do  for 
the  city  in  which  we  live  we  must  do  right  speedily,  or 
never  do  it  at  all.  In  that  day,  when  those  who  have 
wrapped  themselves  in  luxuries  and  despised  the  poor, 
shall  come  to  shame  and  everlasting  contempt,  I  hope  it 
may  be  said  of  you  and  me  that  we  gave  bread  to  the 
hungry,  and  wiped  away  the  tear  of  the  orphan,  and  upon 
the  wanderer  of  the  street  we  opened  the  brightness  and 
benediction  of  a  Christian  home;  and  then,  through  our 
instrumentality,  it  shall  be  known  on  earth  and  in  heaven, 
that  Mary  Lost  became  Mary  Found! 


THESE  WERE  THE  GREAT  PRINTING  HOUSES  OF  THE 


NEW   YORK  DAILIES. 


THE  BATTLE  FOE  BREAD. 


325 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

THE  BATTLE  FOR  BREAD. 

"And  the  ravens  brought  bread  and  flesh  in  the  morning,  and  bread 
and  flesh  in  the  evening." — 1  Kings  xvii :  6. 

The  ornithology  of  the  Bible  is  a  very  interesting 
study.  The  stork  which  knoweth  her  appointed  time. 
The  common  sparrows  teaching  the  lesson  of  God's 
providence.  The  ostriches  of  the  desert,  by  careless 
incubation  illustrating  the  recklessness  of  parents  who 
do  not  take  enough  pains  with  their  children.  The 
ea^le  symbolizing  riches  which  take  wings  and  fly  away. 
The  pelican,  emblemizing  solitude.  The  bat,  a  flake  of 
the  darkness.  The  night  hawk,  the  ossiirage,  the  cuckoo, 
the  lapwing,  the  osprey,  by  the  command  of  God  in 
Leviticus,  flung  out  of  the  world's  bill  of  fare.  I  would 
like  to  have  been  with  Audubon  as  he  went  through  the 
woods,  with  gun  and  pencil  bringing  down  and  sketch- 
ing the  fowls  of  heaven,  his  unfolded  portfolio  thrilling 
all  Christendom.  What  wonderful  creatures  of  God  the 
birds  are!  Some  of  them  this  morning,  like  the  songs 
of  heaven  let  loose,  bursting  through  the  gates  of  heaven. 
Consider  their  feathers,  which  are  clothing  and  convey- 
ance at  the  same  time;  the  nine  vertebra?:  of  the  neck, 
the  three  eyelids  to  each  eye,  the  third  ejTelid  an  extra 
curtain  for  graduating  the  light  of  the  sun.  Some  of 
these  birds  scavengers  and  some  of  them  orchestra. 
Thank  God  for  quail's  whistle,  and  lark's  carol,  and  the 
twitter  of  the  wren,  called  by  the  ancients  the  king  of 


326 


THE  BATTLE  FOli  BREAD. 


birds,  because  when  the  fowls  of  heaven  went  into  a  con- 
test as  to  who  could  fly  the  highest,  and  the  eagle  swung 
nearest  the  sun,  a  wren  on  the  back  of  the  eagle,  after 
the  eagle  was  exhausted,  sprang  up  much  higher,  and  so 
was  called  by  the  ancients  the  king  of  birds.  Consider 
those  of  them  that  have  golden  crowns  and  crests,  show- 
ing them  to  be  feathered  imperials.  And  listen  to  the 
humming-bird's  serenade  in  the  ear  of  the  honeysuckle. 
Look  at  the  belted  kingfisher,  striking  like  a  dart  from 
sky  to  water.  Listen  to  the  voice  of  the  owl,  giving  the 
key-note  to  all  croakers.  And  behold  the  condor,  among 
the  Andes,  battling  with  the  reindeer.  I  do  not  know 
whether  an  aquarium  or  aviary  is  the  best  altar  from 
which  to  worship  God. 

There  is  an  incident  in  my  text  that  baffles  all  the 
ornithological  wonders  of  the  world.  The  grain  crop 
had  been  cut  off.  Famine  was  in  the  land.  In  a  cave 
by  the  brook  Cherith  sat  a  minister  of  God,  Elijah, 
waiting  for  something  to  eat.  Why  did  he  not  go  to 
the  neighbors?  There  were  no  neighbors,  it  was  a  wil- 
derness. Why  did  he  not  pick  some  of  the  berries? 
There  were  none.  If  there  had  been,  they  would  have 
been  dried  up.  Seated,  one  morning  at  the  mouth  of  his 
cave,  the  prophet  looks  into  the  dry  and  pitiless  heavens, 
and  he  sees  a  flock  of  birds  approaching.  Oh!  if  they 
were  only  partridges,  or  if  he  only  had  an  arrow  with  I 
which  to  bring  them  down.  But  as  they  come  nearer 
he  finds  they  are  not  comestible,  but  unclean,  and  the 
eating  of  them  would  be  spiritual  death.  The  strength 
of  their  beak,  the  length  of  their  wings,  the  blackness  of 
their  color,  their  loud,  harsh  "cruck!  cruck!"  prove 
them  to  be  ravens.  They  whirr  around  about  the 
prophet's  head,  and  then  they  come  on  fluttering  wing 
and  pause  on  the  level  of  his  lips,  and  one  of  the  ravens 


THE  BATTLE  FOR  BREAD. 


327 


brings  bread,  and  another  raven  brings  meat,  and  after 
they  have  discharged  their  tiny  cargo  they  wheel  past, 
and  others  come,  until  after  a  while  the  prophet  has 
enough,  and  these  black  servants  of  the  wilderness  table 
are  gone.  For  six  months,  and  some  say  a  whole  year, 
morning  and  evening,  the  breakfast  and  supper  bell 
sounded  as  these  ravens  rang  out  on  the  air  their  "cruck! 
cruek!"  Guess  where  they  got  the  food  from.  The  old 
Rabbins  say  they  got  it  from  the  kitchen  of  King  Ahab. 
Others  say  that  the  ravens  got  the  food  from  pious  Oba- 
diah,  who  was  in  the  habit  of  feeding  the  persecuted. 
Some  say  that  the  ravens  brought  the  food  to  their 
young  in  the  trees,  and  that  Elijah  had  only  to  climb  up 
and  get  it.  Some  say  that  the  whole  story  is  improb- 
able; for  these  were  carnivorous  birds,  and  the  food  they 
carried  was  the  torn  flesh  of  living  beasts,  and  that  cere- 
monially unclean,  or  it  was  carrion,  and  it  would  not 
have  been  fit  for  the  prophet.  Some  say  they  were  not 
ravens  at  all,  but  that  the  word  translated  "  ravens  "  in 
my  text  ought  to  have  been  translated  "Arabs;  "  so  it 
would  have  read:  "The  Arabs  brought  bread  and  flesh 
in  the  morning,  and  bread  and  flesh  in  the  evening." 
Anything  but  admit  the  Bible  to  be  true.  Hew  away  at 
this  miracle  until  all  the  miracle  is  gone.  Go  on  with 
the  depleting  process;  but  know,  my  brother,  that  you 
are  robbing  only  one  man — and  that  is  yourself — of  one 
of  the  most  comforting,  beautiful,  pathetic,  and  tri- 
umphant lessons  in  all  the  ages.  I  can  tell  you  who 
these  purveyors  were:  they  were  ravens.  I  can  tell  you 
who  freighted  them  with  provisions.  God.  I  can  tell 
you  who  launched  them.  God.  I  can  tell  yon  who 
taught  them  which  way  to  fly.  God.  I  can  tell  you 
who  told  thein  at  what  cave  to  swoop.  God.  I  can  tell 
you  who  introduced  raven  to  prophet,  and  prophet  to 


32S 


THE  BATTLE  FOR  BREAD. 


raven.  God.  There  is  one  passage  I  will  wliisper  in 
your  ear,  for  I  would  not  want  to  utter  it  aloud,  lest 
some  one  should  drop  down  under  its  power:  "If  any 
man  shall  take  away  from  the  words  of  the  prophesy  of 
this  book,  God  shall  take  away  his  part  out  of  the  book 
of  life  and  out  of  the  holy  city."  While,  then,  this 
morning  we  watch  the  ravens  feeding  Elijah,  let  the 
swift  dove  of  God's  Spirit  sweep  down  the  sky  with 
Divine  food,  and  on  outspread  wing  pause  at  the  lip  of 
every  soul  hungering  for  comfort. 

If  I  should  ask  you  where  is  the  seat  of  war  to-day, 
you  would  say  on  the  Danube.  No.  That  is  compara- 
tively a  small  conflict,  even  if  all  Europe  should  plunge 
into  it.  The  great  conflict  to-day  is  on  the  Thames,  on 
the  Hudson,  on  the  Mississippi,  on  the  Rhine,  on  the 
Nile,  on  the  Ganges,  on  the  Hoang  Ho.  It  is  a  battle 
that  has  been  going  on  for  six  thousand  years.  The 
troops  engaged  in  it  are  twelve  hundred  millions,  and 
those  who  have  fallen  are  vaster  in  numbers  than  those 
who  march.  It  is  a  battle  for  bread.  Sentimentalists 
sit  in  a  cushioned  chair,  in  their  pictured  study,  with 
their  slippered  feet  on  a  damask  ottoman,  and  say  that 
this  world  is  a  great  scene  of  avarice  and  greed.  It  does 
not  seem  so  to  me.  If  it  were  not  for  the  absolute 
necessities  of  the  cases,  nine-tenths  of  the  stores,  facto- 
ries, shops,  banking-houses,  of  the  land  would  be  closed 
to-morrow.  Who  is  that  man  delving  in  the  Black 
Hills?  or  toiling  in  a  New  England  factory?  or  going 
through  a  roll  of  bills  in  the  bank?  or  measuring  a  fab- 
ric on  the  counter?  He  is  a  champion  sent  forth  in 
behalf  of  some  home  circle  that  has  to  be  cared  for — in 
behalf  of  some  church  of  God  that  has  to  be  supported — 
in  behalf  of  some  asylum  of  mercy  that  has  to  be  sus- 
tained.   Who  is  that  woman  bending  over  the  sewing 


THE  BATTLE   FOR  BREAD. 


329 


machine?  or  carrying  the  bundle?  or  sweeping  the  room? 
or  mending  the  garment?  or  sweltering  at  the  wash-tub? 
That  is  Deborah,  one  of  the  Lord's  heroines,  battling 
against  Amalekitish  want,  which  comes  down  with  iron 
chariot  to  crush  her  and  hers.  The  great  question  with 
the  vast  majority  of  people  to-day  is  not  whether  Presi- 
dent Hayes  treated  South  Carolina  and  Louisiana  as  he 

ou^ht — not  whether  the  Turkish  Sultan  or  the  Russian 
□ 

Czar  ought  to  be  helped  in  this  conflict — the  great  ques- 
tion with  the  vast  majority  of  people  is:  "How  shall  I 
support  my  family  ?  How  shall  I  meet  my  notes?  How 
shall  I  pay  my  rent?  How  shall  I  give  food,  clothing, 
and  education  to  those  who  are  dependent  upon  me?" 
Oh!  if  God  would  help  me  to-day  to  assist  you  in  the 
solution  of  that  problem,  the  happiest  man  in  this  house 
would  be  your  preacher.  I  have  gone  out  on  a  cold 
morning  with  expert  sportsmen  to  hunt  for  pigeons;  I 
have  gone  out  on  the  meadows  to  hunt  for  quail;  I  have 
gone  out  on  the  marsh  to  hunt  for  reed  birds;  but  this 
morning  I  am  out  for  ravens. 

Xotice,  in  the  first  place,  in  the  story  of  my  text,  that 
these  winged  caterers  came  to  Elijah  directly  from  God. 
"  I  have  commanded  the  ravens  that  they  feed  thee,"  we 
find  God  saying  in  an  adjoining  passage.  They  did  not 
come  out  of  some  other  cave.  They  did  not  just  happen 
to  alight  there.  God  freighted  them,  God  launched 
them,  and  God  told  them  by  what  cave  to  swoop.  That 
is  the  same  God  that  is  going  to  supply  you.  He  is 
your  Father.  You  would  have  to  make  an  elaborate 
calculation  before  you  could  tell  me  how  many  pounds 
of  food  and  how  many  yards  of  clothing  would  be  neces- 
sary for  you  and  your  family;  but  God  knows  without 
any  calculation.  You  have  a  plate  at  his  table,  and  you 
are  going  to  be  waited  on,  unless  you  act  like  a  naughty 


330 


THE  BATTLE  FOR  "BREAD. 


child,  and  kick,  and  scramble,  and  pound  saucily  the 
plate",  and  try  to  upset  things.  God  has  a  vast  family, 
and  everything  is  methodized,  and  you  are  going  to  be 
served,  if  you  will  only  wait  your  turn.  God  has  already 
ordered  all  the  suits  of  clothes  you  will  ever  need  down 
to  the  last  suit  in  which  you  shall  be  laid  out.  God  has 
already  ordered  all  the  food  you  will  ever  eat  down  to 
the  last  crumb  that  will  be  put  in  your  mouth  in  the 
dying  sacrament.  It  may  not  be  just  the  kind  of  food 
or  apparel  we  would  prefer.  The  sensi  ble  parent  depends 
on  his  own  judgment  as  to  what  ought  to  be  the  apparel 
and  the  food  of  the  minor  in  the  family.  The  child 
would  say:  "Give  me  sugars  and  confections."  "Oh! 
no,"  says  the  parent.  "  You  must  have  something 
plainer  first."  The  child  would  say:  "Oh!  give  me 
these  great  blotches  of  color  in  the  garment."  "  No," 
says  the  parent;  "that  wouldn't  be  suitable."  Now, 
God  is  our  Father,  and  we  are  minors,  and  he  is  going 
to  clothe  us  and  feed  us,  although  he  may  not  always 
yield  to  our  infantile  wish  for  sweets  and  glitter.  These 
ravens  of  the  text  did  not  bring  pomegranates  from  the 
glittering  platter  of  King  Ahab.  They  brought  bread 
and  meat.  God  had  all  the  heavens  and  the  earth  before 
him  and  under  him,  and  yet  he  sends  this  plain  food 
because  it  was  best  for  Elijah  to  have  it!  Oh!  be  strong, 
my  hearer,  in  the  fact  that  the  same  God  is  going  to 
supply  you.  It  is  never  "hard  times  "  with  him.  His 
ships  never  break  on  the  rocks.  His  banks  never  fail. 
He  has  the  supply  for  you,  and  he  has  the  means  for 
sending  it.  He  has  not  only  the  cargo,  but  the  ship.  If 
it  were  necessary  he  would  swing  out  from  the  heavens 
a  flock  of  ravens  reaching  from  his  gate  to  yours,  until 
the  food  would  be  flung  down  the  sky  from  beak  to  beak 
and  from  talon  to  talon. 


TIIE  BATTLE  FOR  BREAD. 


332 


Notice,  again,  in  this  story  of  the  text,  that  the  ravens 
did  not  allow  Elijah  to  hoard  up  a  surplus.  They  did 
not  bring  enough  on  Monday  to  last  all  the  week.  They 
did  not  bring  enough  one  morning  to  last  until  the  next 
morning.  They  came  twice  a  day,  and  brought  jnst 
enough  for  one  time.  You  know  as  well  as  I  that  the 
great  fret  of  the  world  is  that  we  want  a  surplus — we 
want  the  ravens  to  bring  enough  for  fifty  years.  You 
have  more  confidence  in  the  Loug  Island  Bank  than  you 
have  in  the  royal  bank  of  heaven.  You  say:  "All  that 
is  very  poetic,  but  you  may  have  the  black  ravens — give 
me  the  gold  eagles."  We  had  better  be  content  with 
just  enough.  If,  in  the  morning,  your  family  eat  up  all 
the  food  there  is  in  the  house,  do  not  sit  down,  and  cry, 
and  say:  "  I  don't  know  where  the  next  meal  is  coming 
from."  About  five,  or  six,  or  seven  o'clock  in  the  even- 
ing just  look  up,  and  you  will  see  two  black  spots  on  the 
sky,  and  you  will  hear  the  flapping  of  wings,  and, 
instead  of  Edgar  A.  Poe's  insane  raven  "  alighting  on 
the  chamber-door,  only  this,  and  nothing  more,  '  you 
will  find  Elijah's  two  ravens,  or  the  two  ravens  o  1  the 
Lord,  the  one  bringing  bread  and  the  other  bringing 
meat — plumed  butcher  and  baker. 

God  is  infinite  in  resource.  When  the  city  of  Rochelle 
was  besieged,  and  the  inhabitants  were  dying  of  the  fam- 
ine, the  tides  washed  up  on  the  beach  as  never  before, 
and  as  never  since,  enough  shell-fish  to  feed  the  whole 
city.  God  is  good.  There  is  no  mistake  about  that. 
History  tells  us  that,  in  1555,  in  England,  there  was  a 
great  drought.  The  crops  failed,  but  in  Essex,  on  the 
rocks,  in  a  place  where  they  had  neither  sown  nor  cul- 
tured, a  great  crop  of  peas  grew,  until  they  filled  a  hun- 
dred measures;  and  there  were  blossoming  vines  enough 
promising  as  much  more.     But  why  go  so  far  ?    I  c?.!x 


332 


THE  BATTLE  FOR  BREAD. 


give  you  a  family  incident.  I  will  tell  you  a  secret  that 
has  never  been  told.  Some  generations  back  there  was 
a  great  drought  in  Connecticut,  New  England.  The 
water  disappeared  from  the  hills  and  the  farmers  living 
on  the  hills  drove  their  cattle  down  toward  the  valleys, 
and  had  them  supplied  at  the  wells  and  fountains  of  the 
neighbors.  But  these  after  awhile  began  to  fail,  and  the 
neighbors  said  to  Mr.  Birdseje,  of  whom  I  shall  speak: 
"You  must  not  send  your  flocks  and  herds  down  here 
any  more;  our  wells  are  giving  out."  Mr.  Birdseye,  the 
old  Christian  man,  gathered  his  family  at  the  altar,  and 
with  his  family  he  gathered  the  slaves  of  the  household — 
for  bondage  was  then  in  vogue  in  Connecticut — and  on 
their  knees  before  God  they  cried  for  water;  and  the 
family  story  is,  that  there  was  weeping  and  great  sobbing 
at  that  altar,  that  the  family  might  not  perish  for  lack  of 
water,  and  that  the  herds  and  flocks  might  not  perish. 
The  family  rose  from  the  altar.  Mr.  Birdseye,  the  old 
man,  took  his  staff  and  walked  out  over  the  hills,  and  in 
a  place  where  he  had  been  snores  of  times  without  notic- 
ing anything  particular,  he  saw  the  ground  was  very 
dark,  and  he  took  his  staff,  and  turned  up  the  ground, 
and  the  water  started;  and  he  beckoned  to  his  servants 
and  they  came,  and  they  brought  pails  and  buckets  until 
all  the  family,  and  all  the  flocks  and  the  herds,  were 
cared  for,  and  then  they  made  troughs  reaching  from 
that  place  down  to  the  house  and  barn,  and  the  water 
flowed,  and  it  is  a  living  fountain  to-day!  Now,  I  call 
that  old  grandfather,  Elijah,  and  I  call  that  brook  that 
began  to  roll  then,  and  is  rolling  still,  the  brook  Cherith; 
and  the  lesson  to  me,  and  to  all  who  hear  it,  is,  when 
you  are  in  great  stress  of  circumstances,  pray  and  dig, 
dig  and  pray,  and  pray  and  dig.  How  does  that  passage 
ito? — uThe  mountains  shall  depart,  and  the  hills  be 


THE  BATTLE  FOR  BREAD. 


333 


removed,  but  my  loving-kindness  shall  not  fail."  If 
jour  merchandise,  if  your  mechanism,  fail,  look  out  for 
ravens.  If  you  have,  in  your  despondency,  put  God  on 
trial,  and  condemned  him  as  guilty  of  cruelty,  I  move, 
this  morning  for  a  new  trial.  If  the  biography  of  your 
life  is  ever  written,  I  will  tell  you  what  the  first  chapter, 
and  the  middle  chapter,  and  the  last  chapter  will  be 
about,  if  it  is  written  accurately.  The  first  about  mercy, 
the  middle  chapter  about  mercy,  the  last  chapter  about 
mercy.  The  mercy  that  hovered  over  your  cradle.  The 
mercy  that  will  hover  over  your  grave.  The  mercy  that 
will  cover  all  between. 

Again,  this  story  of  the  text  impresses  me  that  relief 
came  to  this  prophet  with  the  most  unexpected,  and  with 
seemingly  impossible,  conveyance.  If  it  had  been  a  rob- 
in red-breast,  or  a  musical  meadow-lark,  or  a  meek  turtle- 
dove, or  a  sublime  albatross  that  had  brought  the  food 
to  Elijah,  it  would  not  have  been  so  surprising.  But  no. 
It  was  a  bird  so  fierce  and  inauspicate  that  we  have  fash- 
ioned one  of  our  most  forceful  and  repulsive  words  out 
of  it — ravenous.  That  bird  has  a  passion  for  picking  out 
the  eyes  of  men  and  animals.  It  loves  to  maul  the  sick 
and  the  dying.  It  swailows,  with  vulturous  guggle, 
everything  it  can  put  its  beak  on;  and  yet  all  the  food 
Elijah  gets  for  six  months  or  a  year  is  from  the  ravens. 
So  your  supply  is  going  to  come  from  an  unexpected 
source.  You  think  some  great-hearted,  generous  man 
will  come  along  and  give  you  his  name  on  the  back  of 
your  note,  or  he  will  go  security  for  you  in  some  great 
enterprise.  No,  he  will  not.  God  will  open  the  heart 
of  6ome  Shylock  toward  you.  Your  relief  will  come 
from  the  most  unexpected  quarter.  The  Providence 
that  seemed  ominous  will  be  to  you  more  than  that 
which  seemed  auspicious.  It  will  not  be  a  chaffinch  with 


334 


THE  BATTLE  FOR  BliEAD. 


breast  and  wing  dashed  with  white,  and  brown,  and 
chestnut:  it  will  be  a  black  raven. 

Here  is  where  we  all  make  our  mistake,  and  that  is  in 
regard  to  the  color  of  God's  providence.  A  white  provi- 
dence comes  to  us,  and  we  say:  "O!  it  is  mercy."  Then 
a  black  providence  comes  toward  us,  and  we  say:  4£0! 
that  is  disaster."  The  white  providence  comes  to  you, 
and  you  have  great  business  success,  and  you  have  fifty 
thousand  dollars,  and  you  get  proud,  and  you  get  inde- 
pendent of  God,  and  you  begin  to  feel  that  the  prayer 
"Give  me  this  day  my  daily  bread"  is  inappropriate  for 
you,  for  you  have  made  provision  for  a  hundred  years. 
Then  a  black  providence  comes,  and  it  sweeps  everything 
away,  and  then  you  begin  to  pray,  and  you  begin  to  feel 
your  dependence,  and  begin  to  be  humble  before  God, 
and  you  cry  out  for  treasures  in  heaven.  The  black 
providence  brought  you  salvation.  The  white  provi- 
dence brought  you  ruin.  That  which  seemed  to  be 
harsh,  and  fierce,  and  dissonant,  was  your  greatest  mer- 
cy.   It  was  a  raven. 

There  was  a  child  born  in  your  house.  All  your 
friends  congratulated  you.  The  other  children  of  the 
family  and  of  the  neighborhood  stood  amazed  looking  at 
the  new-comer,  and  asked  a  great  many  questions,  gene- 
alogical and  chronological.  You  said — and  you  said 
truthfullv — that  a  white  angel  flew  through  the  room 
and  left  the  little  one  there.  That  little  one  stood  with 
its  two  feet  in  the  very  center  of  your  sanctuary  of  affec- 
tion, and  with  its  two  hands  it  took  hold  of  the  altar 
of  your  soul.  But  one  day  there  came  one  of  the  three 
scourges  of  children — scarlet  fever,  or  croup,  or  diph- 
theria— and  all  that  bright  scene  vanished.  The  chatter- 
ing, the  strange  questions,  the  pulling  at  the  dresses  as 
you  crossed  the  floor — all  ceased.    As  the  great  friend  of 


THE  BATTLE  FOR  BKEAD. 


335 


children  stooped  down  and  leaned  toward  that  cradle, 
and  took  the  little  one  in  His  arms,  and  walked  away 
with  it  into  the  bower  of  eternal  summer,  your  eye  be- 
gan to  follow  Him,  and  you  followed  the  treasure  He  car- 
ried, and  you  have  been  following  them  ever  since;  and, 
instead  of  thinking  of  heaven  only  once  a  week,  as  form- 
erly, you  are  thinking  of  it  all  the  time,  and  you  are 
more  pure  and  tender-hearted  than  you  used  to  be,  and 
you  are  patiently  waiting  for  the  day-break.  It  is  not 
self-righteousness  in  you  to  acknowledge  that  you  are  a 
better  man  than  you  used  to  be — you  are  a  better  woman 
than  you  used  to  be.  What  was  it  that  brought  you  the 
sanctifying  blessing?  O!  it  was  the  dark  shadow  on  the 
nursery;  it  was  the  dark  shadow  on  the  short  grave;  it 
was  the  dark  shadow  on  your  broken  heart;  it  was  the 
brooding  of  a  great  black  trouble;  it  was  a  raven — it  was 
a  raven.  Dear  Lord,  teach  this  people  that  white  provi- 
dences do  not  always  mean  advancement,  and  that  black 
providences  do  not  always  mean  retrogression. 

Children  of  God,  get  up  out  of  your  despondency. 
The  Lord  never  had  so  many  ravens  as  he  has  this  morn- 
ing. Fling  your  fret  and  worry  to  the  winds.  Some- 
times, under  the  vexations  of  life,  you  feel  like  my  little 
girl  of  four  years  last  week,  who  said,  under  some  child- 
ish vexations:  "Oh,  I  wish  I  could  go  to  heaven,  and  see 
God,  and  pick  flowers!"  He  will  let  you  go  when  the 
right  time  comes  to  pick  flowers.  Until  then,  whatever 
you  want,  pray  for.  I  suppose  Elijah  prayed  pretty  much 
all  the  time.  Tremendous  work  behind  him.  Tremend- 
ous work  before  him.  God  has  no  spare  ravens  for  idlers, 
or  for  people  who  are  prayerless.  I  put  it  in  the  boldest 
shape  possible,  and  I  am  willing  to  risk  my  eternity  on 
it:  ask  God  in  the  right  way  for  what  you  want,  and  you 
shall  have  it,  if  it  is  best  for  you.    Mrs.  Jane  Pithev,  of 


330 


THE  BATTLE  FOR  BREAD. 


Chicago,  a  well-known  Christian  woman,  was  left  by  her 
husband  a  widow  with  one  half  dollar  and  a  cottage.  She 
was  palsied,  and  had  a  mother,  ninety  years  of  age,  to  sup- 
port. The  widowed  soul  every  day  asked  God  for  all  that 
was  needed  in  the  household,  and  the  servant  even  was 
astonished  at  the  precision  with  which  God  answered  the 
prayers  of  that  woman  item  by  item,  item  by  item.  One 
day,  rising  Irom  the  family  altar,  the  servant  said:  "You 
have  not  asked  for  coal,  and.  the  coal  is  out."  Then  they 
stood  and  prayed  for  the  coal.  One  hour  after  that,  the 
servant  threw  open  the  door  and  said:  "The  coal  has 
come."  A  generous  man,  whose  name  I  could  give  you, 
had  sent — as  never  before  and  never  since — a  supply  of 
coal.  You  cannot  understand  it.  I  do.  Havens!  Ravens! 

My  friend,  you  have  a  right  to  argue  from  precedent 
that  God  is  going  to  take  care  of  you.  Has  he  not  done 
it  two  or  three  times  every  day?  That  is  most  marvel- 
ous. I  look  back  and  I  wonder  that  God  has  given  me 
food  three  times  a  day  regularly  all  my  life- time,  never 
missing  but  once,  and  then  I  was  lost  in  the  mountains; 
but  that  very  morning  and  that  very  night  I  met  the 
ravens. 

O!  the  Lord  is  so  good  that  I  wisli  all  this  people 
would  trust  Him  with  the  two  lives — the  life  you  are  now 
living  and  that  which  every  tick  of  the  watch  and  every 
stroke  of  the  clock  informs  you  is  approaching.  Bread 
for  your  immortal  soul  comes  to-day.  See!  They  alight 
on  the  platform.  They  alight  on  the  backs  of  all  the 
pews.  They  swing  among  the  arches.  Ravens!  Ravens! 
"Blessed  are  they  that  hunger  after  righteousness,  for 
they  shall  be  filled."  To  all  the  sinning,  and  the  sor- 
rowing, and  the  tempted  deliverance  comes  this  hour. 
Look  down,  and  you  see  nothing  but  spiritual  deformi- 
ties.   Look  back,  and  you  see  nothing  but  wasted  oppor- 


THE  BATTLE  FOR  BREAD. 


tr  iitv.  Cast  your  eve  forward,  and  you  have  a  fearful 
looking-for  of  judgment  and  liery  indignation,  which 
shall  devour  the  adversary.  But  look  up,  and  you  behold 
the  whipped  shoulders  of  an  interceding  Christ,  and  the 
face  of  a  pardoning  God,  and  the  irradiation  of  an  open- 
ing heaven.  I  hear  the  whir  of  their  wings.  Do  you 
not  feel  the  rush  of  the  air  on  your-  cheek?  Ravens! 
Ravens! 

There  is  only  one  question  I  want  to  ask:  how  many 
of  this  audience  are  willing  to  trust  God  for  the  supply 
of  their  bodies,  and  trust  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ  for  the 
redemption  of  their  immortal  souls?  Amid  the  clatter 
of  the  hoofs  and  the  clang  of  the  wheels  of  the  judg- 
ment chariot,  the  whole  matter  will  be  demonstrated 
22 


33S 


THE  HORNET'S  MISSION. 


CHAPTER  XXYI. 

THE  HORNET'S  MISSION. 
"And  the  Lord  will  send  the  hornet." — Dear,  vii:  20. 

It  seems  as  if  the  insect  world  were  determined  to 
war  against  the  human  race.  It  is  attacking  the  grain- 
fields  and  the  orchards  and  the  vineyards.  The  Colora- 
do beetle,  the  Nebraska  grasshopper,  the  New  Jersey  lo- 
cust, the  universal  potato  destroyer,  seem  to  carry  on  the 
work  which  was  begun  ages  ago  when  the  iusects  buzzed 
out  of  Noah's  ark  as  the  door  was  opeued. 

In  my  text  the  hornet  flies  out  on  its  mission.  It  is  a 
species  of  wasp,  swift  in  its  motion  and  violent  in  its 
sting.  Its  touch  is  torture  to  man  or  beast.  We  have 
all  seen  the  cattle  run  bellowing  from  the  cut  of  its  lan- 
cet. In  boyhood  we  used  to  stand  cautiously  looking  at 
the  globular  nest  hung  from  the  tree  branch,  and  while 
we  were  looking  at  the  wonderful  pasteboard  covering 
we  were  struck  with  something  that  sent  us  shrieking 
away.  The  hornet  goes  in  swarms.  It  has  captains 
over  hundreds,  and  twenty  of  them  attacking  one  man 
will  produce  certain  death.  The  Persians  attempted  to 
conquer  a  Christian  city,  but  the  elephants  and  the  beasts 
on  which  the  Persians  rode  were  assaulted  by  the  hornet, 
so  that  the  whole  army  was  broken  up  and  the  besieged 
city  was  rescued.  This  burning  and  noxious  insect  stung 
out  the  Hittites  and  the  Canaanites  from  their  country. 
What  the  gleaming  sword  and  chariot  of  war  could  not 


THE  HORNET'S  MISSION. 


accomplish  was  done  by  the  puncture  of  an  insect.  The 
Lord  sent  the  hornet. 

My  friends,  when  we  are  assaulted  by  behemoths  of 
trouble — great  behemoths  of  trouble — we  become  chival- 
ric,  and  we  assault  them;  we  get  on  the  high-mettled 
steed  of  our  courage,  and  we  make  a  cavalry  charge  at 
them,  and,  if  God  be  with  us,  we  come  out  stronger  and 
better  than  when  we  went  in.  .But,  alas!  for  these  in- 
sectile  annoyances  of  life — these  foes  too  small  to  shoot— 
these  things  without  any  avoirdupois  weight — the  gnats, 
and  the  midges,  and  the  flies,  and  the  wasps,  and  the 
hornets.  In  other  words,  it  is  the  small  stinging  annoy- 
ances of  our  life  which  drive  us  out  and  use  us  up.  In- 
to the  best  conditioned  life,  for  some  grand  and  glorious 
purpose,  God  sends  the  hornet. 

I  remark  in  the  first  place  that  these  small  stinging 
annoyances  may  come  in  the  shape  of  a  sensitive  nerv- 
ous organization.  People  who  are  prostrated  under 
typhoid  fevers  or  with  broken  bones  get  plenty  of 
sympathy,  but  who  pities  anybody  that  is  nervous? 
The  doctors  say,  and  the  family  says,  and  everybody  says, 
"  Oh!  she 's  only  a  little  nervous;  that 's  all."  The  sound 
of  a  heavy  foot,  the  harsh  clearing  of  a  throat,  a  discord 
in  music,  a  want  of  harmony  between  the  shawl  and  the 
glove  on  the  same  person,  a  curt  answer,  a  passing  slight, 
the  wind  from  the  east,  any  one  of  ten  thousand  annoy- 
ances, opens  the  door  for  the  hornet.  The  fact  is,  that 
the  vast  majority  of  the  people  in  this  country  are  over- 
worked, and  their  nerves  are  the  first  to  give  up.  A 
great  multitude  are  under  the  strain  of  Leyden,  who, 
when  he  was  told  by  his  physician  that  if  he  did  not  stop 
working  while  he  was  in  such  poor  physical  health  he 
would  die,  responded,  "  Doctor,  whether  I  live  or  die  the 
wheel  must  keep  going  around."  These  persons  of  whom 


340 


THE  HORNET'S  MISSION. 


1  speak  have  a  bleeding  sensitiveness.  The  flies  love  to 
light  on  anything  raw,  and  these  people  are  like  the 
Canaanites  spoken  of  in  the  text  or  in  the  context — they 
have  a  very  thin  covering  and  are  vulnerable  at  all 
points.    "And  the  Lord  sent  the  hornet." 

Again,  these  small  insect  annoyances  may  come  to  us 
in  the  shape  of  friends  and  acquaintances  who  are  always 
saying  disagreeable  things.  There  are  some  people  you 
cannot  be  with  for  half  an  hour  but  you  feel  cheered  and 
comforted.  Then  there  are  other  people  you  cannot  be 
with  for  five  minutes  before  you  feel  miserable.  They 
do  not  mean  to  disturb  you.  but  they  sting  you  to  the 
bone.  They  gather  up  all  the  yarn  which  the  gossips 
spin,  and  peddle- it.  They  gather  up  all  the  adverse  crit- 
icisms about  your  person,  about  your  business,  about 
your  home,  about  your  church,  and  they  make  your  ear 
the  funnel  into  which  they  pour  it.  They  laugh  heartily 
when  they  tell  you,  as  though  it  were  a  crood  joke,  and 
you  laugh  too — outside.  These  people  are  brought  to 
our  attention  in  the  Bible,  in  the  Book  of  Rath:  Xaomi 
went  forth  beautiful  and  with  the  finest  of  worldly  pros- 
pects into  another  land,  but  after  awhile  she  came  back 
widowed,  and  sick,  and  poor.  What  did  her  friends  do 
when  she  came  back  to  the  city?  They  all  went  out, 
and,  instead  of  giving  her  common-sense  consolation, 
what  did  they  do?  Read  the  book  of  Ruth  and  find  out. 
They  threw  up  their  hands  and  said,  Is  this  Xaomi?" 
as  much  as  to  say  How  very  bad  you  look! "  Wliea  I 
entered  the  ministry  I  looked  very  pale  for  years,  and 
every  year,  for  four  or  five  years,  a  hundred  times  a  year, 
I  was  asked  if  I  was  not  in  a  consumption!  And  pass- 
ing through  the  room  I  would  sometimes  hear  people 
^igh  and  say,  "A-ah!  not  long  for  this  world  !'*  I  resolved 
in  those  times  that  I  never,  in  any  conversation,  would 


THE  HORNET'S  MISSION. 


341 


say  anything  depressing,  and  by  the  help  of  G-od  I  have 
kept  the  resolution.  These  people  of  whom  I  speak  reap 
and  bind  in  the  great  harvest-field  of  discouragement. 
Some  days  you  greet  them  with  a  hilarious  "Good 
morning,''  and  they  come  buzzing  at  you  with  some  de- 
pressing information.  "The  Lord  sent  the  hornet."  It 
is  astonishing  how  some  people  prefer  to  write  and  to 
say  disagreeable  things.  That  was  the  case  when  four 
or  five  years  ago  Henry  M.  Stanley  returned  after  his 
magnificent  exploit  of  finding  Doctor  David  Livingstone, 
and  when  Mr.  Stanley  stood  before  the  savans  of  Europe, 
and  many  of  the  small  critics  of  the  day,  under  pretence 
of  getting  geographical  information,  put  to  him  most  in- 
solent questions,  he  folded  his  arms  and  refused  to  an- 
swer. At  the  very  time  when  you  would  suppose  all  de- 
cent men  would  have  applauded  the  heroism  of  the  man, 
there  were  those  to  hiss.  "The  Lord  sent  the  hornet." 
And  now  at  this  time,  when  that  man  sits  down  on  the 
western  coast  of  Africa,  sick  and  worn  perhaps  in  the 
grandest  achievement  of  the  age  in  the  way  of  geograph- 
ical discovery,  there  are  small  critics  all  over  the  world  to 
buzz  and  buzz,  and  caricature  and  deride  him,  and  after  a 
while  he  will  get  the  London  papers,  and,  as  he  opens  them, 
out  will  fly  the  hornet.  When  I  see  that  there  are  so 
many  people  in  the  world  who  like  to  say  disagreeable 
things,  and  write  disagreeable  things,  I  come  almost  in 
my  weaker  moments  to  believe  what  a  man  said  to  me  in 
Philadelphia  one  Monday  morning.  I  went  to  get  the 
horse  that  was  at  the  livery,  and  the  hostler,  a  plain  man, 
said  to  me:  "Mr.  Talmage,  I  saw  that  you  preached  to 
the  young  men  yesterday."  I  said,  "  Yes."  He  said, 
"No  use,  no  use;  man's  a  failure." 

The  small  insect  annoyances  of  life  sometimes  come  in 
the  shape  of  a  local  physical  trouble,  which  dues  not 


342 


THE  UOKNKt's  MISSION. 


amount  to  a  positive  prostration,  but  which  bothers  you 
when  you  want  to  feel  the  best.  Perhaps  it  is  a  sick 
headache  which  has  been  .the  plague  of  your  life,  and 
you  appoint  some  occasion  of  mirth,  or  sociality,  or  use- 
fulness, aud  when  the  clock  strikes  the  hour  you  cannot 
make  your  appearance.  Perhaps  the  trouble  is  between 
the  ear  and  the  forehead,  in  the  shape  of  a  neuralgic 
twinge.  Nobody  can  sec  it  or  sympathize  with  you;  but 
just  at  the  time  when  you  want  your  intellect  clearest, 
and  your  disposition  brightest,  you  feel  a  sharp,  keen, 
disconcerting  thrust.    "The  Lord  sent  the  hornet." 

Perhaps  these  small  insect  annoyances  will  come  in 
the  shape  of  a  domestic  irritation.  The  parlor  and  the 
kitchen  do  not  always  harmonize.  To  get  good  service 
and  to  keep  it  is  one  of  the  great  questions  of  the  coun- 
try. Sometimes  it  may  be  the  arrogancy  and  inconsid- 
erateness  of  employers;  but  whatever  be  the  fact,  we  all 
admit  there  are  these  insect  annoyances  winging  their 
way  out  from  the  culinary  department.  If  the  grace  of 
God  be  not  in  the  heart  of  the  housekeeper,  she  cannot 
maintain  her  equilibrium.  The  men  come  home  at  night 
and  hear  the  story  of  these  annoyances,  and  say:  aOh! 
these  home  troubles  are  very  little  things."  They  are 
small,  small  as  wasps,  but  they  sting.  Martha's  nerves 
were  all  unstrung  when  she  rushed  in  asking  Christ  to 
reprove  Mary,  and  there  are  tens  of  thousands  of  women 
who  are  dying,  stung  to  death  by  these  pestiferous  do- 
mestic annoyances.    "The  Lord  sent  the  hornet." 

These  small  insect  disturbances  may  also  come  in  the 
shape  of  business  irritations.  There  are  men  here  who 
went  through  1857  and  Sept.  24,  1S69,  without  losing 
their  balance,  who  arc  every  day  unhorsed  by  little  an- 
noyances— a  clerk's  ill-manners,  or  a  blot  of  ink  on  a  bill 
of  lading,  or  the  extravagance  of  a  partner  who  over- 


THE  HORNET'S  MISSION. 


313 


draws  his  account,  or  the  underselling  by  a  business 
rival,  or  the  whispering  of  business  confidences  in  the 
street,  or  the  making  of  some  little  bad  debt  which  was 
against  your  judgment,  just  to  please  somebody  else.  It 
is  not  the  panics  that  kill  the  merchants.  Panics  come 
only  once  in  ten  or  twenty  years.  It  is  the  constant  din 
of  these  every-day  annoyances  which  is  sending  so  many 
of  our  best  merchants  into  nervous  dyspepsia  and  paraly- 
sis and  the  grave.  When  our  national  commerce  fell  flat 
on  its  face,  these  men  stood  up  and  felt  almost  defiant; 
but  their  life  is  giving  way  now  under  the  swarm  of 
these  pestiferous  annoyances.  "  The  Lord  sent  the 
hornet." 

I  have  noticed  in  the  history  of  some  of  my  congre- 
gation that  their  annoyances  are  -multiplying,  and  that 
they  have  a  hundred  there  they  used  to  have  ten.  The 
naturalist  tells  us  that  a  wasp  sometimes  has  a  family  of 
twenty  thousand  wasps,  and  it  does  seem  as  if  every  an- 
noyance of  your  life  bred  a  million.  By  the  help  of 
God  to-day  I  want  to  show  you  the  other  side.  The 
hornet  is  of  no  use?  Oh,  yes!  The  naturalists  tell  us 
they  are  very  important  in  the  world's  economy;  they 
kill  spiders  and  they  clear  the  atmosphere;  and  I  really 
believe  God  sends  the  annoyances  of  our  life  upon  us 
to  kill  the  spiders  of  the  soul  and  to  clear  the  atmos- 
phere of  our  skies.  These  annoyances  are  sent  on  us,  I 
think,  to  wake  us  up  from  our  lethargy.  There  is  noth- 
ing that  makes  a  man  so  lively  as  a  nest  of  "yellow 
jackets,"  and  I  think  that  these  annoyances  are  intended 
to  persuade  us  of  the  fact  that  this  is  not  a  world  for  us 
to  stop  in.  If  we  had  a  bed  of  everything  that  was  at- 
tractive and  soft  and  easy,  what  would  we  want  of 
heaven?    You  think  that  the  hollow  tree  sends  the  hor- 


THE  HORNET'S  MISSION. 


net,  or  yon  think  the  deviL  sends  the  hornet.  I  want  to 
correct  jour  opinion.    "  The  Lord  sent  the  hornet.'1 

Then  I  also  think  these  annoyances  come  upon  us  to 
culture  our  patience.  In  the  gymnasium  you  find  upright 
parallel  bars — bars  with  holes  over  each  other  for  pegs 
to  be  put  in.*  Then  the  gymnast  takes  a  peg  in  each 
hand  and  he  begins  to  climb,  one  inch  at  a  time,  or  two 
inches,  and  getting  his  strength  cultured,  reaches  after  a 
while  the  ceiling.  And  it  seems  to  me  that  these  annoy- 
ances in  life  are  a  moral  gymnasium,  each  worry  a  peg 
by  which  we  are  to  climb  higher  and  higher  in  Christian 
attainment.  We  all  love  to  see  patience,  but  it  cannot 
be  cultured  in  fair  weather.  It  is  a  child  of  the  storm. 
If  you  had  everything  desirable  and  there  was  nothing 
more  to  get,  what  would  you  want  with  patience?  The 
only  time  to  culture  it  is  when  you  are  slandered  and 
cheated,  and  sick  and  half  dead.  "Oh,"  you  say,  "if  I 
only  had  the  circumstances  of  some  well-to-do  man  I 
would  be  patient  too."  You  might  as  well  say,  "  If  it 
were  not  for  this  water  I  would  swim;"  or,  "I  could 
shoot  this  gun  if  it  were  not  for  the  caps."  When  you 
stand  chin-deep  in  annoyances  is  the  time  for  you  to  swim 
out  toward  the  great  headlands  of  Christian  attainment, 
and  when  your  life  is  loaded  to  the  muzzle  with  repul- 
sive annoyances — that  is  the  time  to  draw  the  trigger. 
^Nothing  but  the  furnace  will  ever  burn  out  of  us  the 
clinker  and  the  slag.  I  have  formed  this  theory  in  re- 
gard to  small  annoyances  and  vexations:  It  takes  just  so 
much  trouble  to  fit  us  for  usefulness  and  for  heaven. 
The  only  question  is,  whether  we  shall  take  it  in  the 
bulk,  or  pulverized  and  granulated.  Here  is  one  man 
who  takes  it  in  the  bulk.  His  back  is  broken,  or  his 
eyesight  put  out,  or  some  other  awful  calamity  befalls 
him;  while  the  vast  majority  of  people  take  the  thing  piece- 


THE  HORNET'S  MISSION. 


3-45 


meal.  Which  way  would  you  rather  have  it?  Of  course  in 
piecemeal.  Better  have  five  aching  teeth  than  one  broken 
jaw.  Better  ten  fly-blisters  than  an  amputation.  Better 
twenty  squalls  than  one  cyclone.  There  may  be  a  differ- 
ence of  opinion  as  to  allopathy  and  homoepathy;  but  in 
this  matter  of  trouble  I  like  homoeopathic  doses — small 
pellets  of  annoyance  rather  than  some  knock-down  dose 
of  calamity.  Instead  of  the  thunderbolt  give  us  the  hor- 
net. If  you  have  a  bank  you  would  a  great  deal  rather 
that  fifty  men  should  come  in  with  cheques  less  than  a 
hundred  dollars  than  to  have  two  depositors  come  in  the 
same  day  each  wanting  his  ten  thousand  dollars.  In 
this  latter  case,  you  cough  and  look  down  at  the  floor 
and  up  at  the  ceiling  before  3tou  look  into  the  safe. 
Now,  my  friends,  would  you  not  rather  have  these  small 
drafts  of  annoyance  on  your  bank  of  faith  than  some  all- 
staggering  demand  upon  your  endurance?  I  want  to 
make  you  strong,  that  you  will  not  surrender  to  small 
annoyances.  In  the  village  of  Hamelin,  tradition  says, 
there  was  an  invasion  of  rats,  and  these  small  creatures 
almost  devoured  the  town  and  threatened  the  lives  of  the 
population,  and  the  story  is  that  a  piper  came  out  one 
day  and  played  a  very  sweet  tune,  and  all  the  vermin 
followed  him — followed  him  to  the  banks  of  the  Weser 
and  then  he  blew  a  blast  and  they  dropped  in  and  disap- 
peared forever.  Of  course  this  is  a  fable,  but  I  wish  I 
could,  on  the  sweet  flute  of  the  Gospel,  draw  forth  all  the 
nibbling  and  burrowing  annoyances  of  your  life,  and  play 
them  down  into  the  depths  forever.  How  many  touches 
did  the  artist  give  to  his  picture  of  'Ootopaxi,"  or  his 
"Heart  of  the  Andes?"  I  suppose  about  fifty  thousand 
touches.  I  hear  the  canvas  saving,  "Why  do  you  keep 
me  trembling  with  that  pencil  so  long?  Why  don't  you 
put  it  on  in  one  dash?"    "  No,"  says  the  artist,  "I  know 


346 


the  hornet's  mission. 


how  to  make  a  painting;  it  will  take  fifty  thousand  of 
these  touches."  And  I  want  you3  my  friends,  to  under- 
stand that  it  is  these  ten  thousand  annoyances  which 
under  God,  are  making  up  the  picture  of  your  life,  to  be 
hung  at  last  in  the  galleries  of  heaven,  fit  for  angels  to 
look  at.    God  knows  how  to  make  a  picture. 

If  I  had  my  way  with  you  I  would  have  you  possess 
all  possible  worldly  prosperity.  I  would  have  you  each 
one  a  garden — a  river  running  through  it,  geraniums 
and  shrubs  on  the  sides,  and  the  grass  and  flowers  as 
beautiful  as  though  the  rainbow  had  fallen.  I  would 
have  you  a  house,  a  splendid  mansion,  and  the  bed 
should  be  covered  with  upholstery  dipped  in  the  setting 
sun.  I  would  have  every  hall  in  your  house  set  with  stat- 
ues and  statuettes,  and  then  I  would  have  the  four  quart- 
ers of  the  globe  pour  in  all  their  luxuries  on  your  table, 
and  you  should  have  forks  of  silver  and  knives  of  gold, 
inlaid  with  diamonds  and  amethysts.  Then  you  should 
each  one  of  you  have  the  finest  horses,  and  your  pick  of 
the  equipages  of  the  world.  Then  I  would  have  you 
live  a  hundred  and  fifty  years,  and  you  should  not  have 
a  pain  or  ache  until  the  last  breath.  "  'Not  each  one  of 
us?*'  you  say.  Yes,  each  one  of  you.  "Not  to  your 
enemies?"  Yes;  the  only  difference  I  would  make  with 
them  would  be  that  I  would  put  a  little  extra  gilt  on 
their  walls  and  a  little  extra  embroidery  on  their  slippers. 
But  you  say,  "Why  does  not  God  give  us  all  these 
things?"  Ah!  I  bethink  myself.  He  is  wiser.  It  would 
make  fools  and  sluggards  of  us  if  we  had  our  way.  No 
man  puts  his  best  picture  in  the  portico  or  vestibule  of 
his  house.  God  meant  this  world  to  be  only  the  vesti- 
bule of  heaven,  that  great  gallery  of  the  universe  toward 
which  we  are  aspiring.  We  must  not  have  it  too  good 
in  this  world,  or  we  would  want  no  heaven.    You  are 


THE  HORNET'S  MISSION. 


317 


surprised  that  aged  people  are  so  willing  to  go  out  of 
this  world.  I  will  tell  you  the  reason.  It  is  not  only 
because  of  the  bright  prospects  in  heaven,  but  it  is  be- 
cause they  feel  that  seventy  years  of  annoyance  is 
enough.  They  would  have  lain  down  in  the  soft  mead- 
ows of  this  world  forever,  but  "  God  sent  the  hornet." 

My  friends,  I  shall  not  have  preached  in  vain  if  I  have 
shown  you  that  the  annoyances  of  life,  the  small  annoy- 
ances, may  be  subservient  to  your  present  and  eternal  ad- 
vantage. Poly  carp  was  condemned  to  be  burned  at  the 
stake.  The  stake  was  planted.  He  was  fastened  to  it, 
the  faggots  were  placed  round  about  the  stake,  they  were 
kindled,  but,  by  some  strange  current  of  the  atmosphere, 
history  tells  us,  the  flames  bent  outward  like  the  sails  of 
a  ship  under  a  strong  breeze,  and  then  far  above  they 
came  together,  making  a  canopy;  so  that  instead  of  being 
destroyed  by  the  flames,  there  he  stood  in  a  flamboy- 
ant bower  planted  by  his  persecutors.  They  had  to  take 
his  life  in  another  way,  by  the  point  of  the  poinard. 
And  I  have  to  tell  you  this  morning  that  God  can  make 
all  the  flames  of  your  trial  a  wall  of  defense  and  a  cano- 
py for  the  soul.  God  is  just  as  willing  to  fulfill  to  you  as 
he  was  to  Polycarp  the  promise,  "  When  thou  passest 
through  the  fire  thou  shalt  not  be  burned."  In  heaven 
you  will  acknowledge  the  fact  that  you  never  had  one 
annoyance  too  many,  and  through  all  eternity  you  will 
be  grateful  that  in  this  world  the  Lord  did  send  the  hor- 
net. "Weeping  may  endure  for  a  night,  but  joy  cometh 
in  the  morning."  "All  things  work  together  for  good  to 
those  who  love  God."  The  Lord  sent  the  sunshine. 
"The  Lord  sent  the  hornet." 


348 


THE  OUTSIDE  SHEEP. 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 

THE  OUTSIDE  SHEEP. 
Other  sheep  I  have  which  are  not  of  this  fold. — John  x:  16. 

There  is  no  monopoly  in  religion.  The  grace  of  God 
is  not  a  little  property  that  we  may  fence  of!  and 
have  all  to  ourselves.  It  is  not  a  king's  park  at  which 
we  look  through  a  barred  gate-way,  wishing  that  we 
might  go  in  and  see  the  deer  and  the  statuary,  and  pluck 
the  flowers  and  fruits  in  the  royal  conservatory.  "No,  it 
is  the  Father's  orchard,  and  everywhere  there  are  bars 
that  we  may  let  down  and  gates  that  we  may  swing 
open. 

In  my  boyhood,  next  to  the  country  school-house, 
there  was  an  orchard  of  apples,  owned  by  a  very  lame 
man,  who,  although  there  were  apples  in  the  place  per- 
petually decaying,  and  by  scores  and  scores  of  bushels, 
never  would  allow  any  of  us  to  touch  the  fruit.  One 
day,  in  the  sinfulness  of  a  nature  inherited  from  our 
first  parents,  who  were  ruined  by  the  same  temptation, 
some  of  us  invaded  that  orchard ;  but  soon  retreated,  for 
the  man  came  after  us  at  a  speed  reckless  of  making  his 
lameness  worse,  and  cried  out:  "Boys,  drop  those  apples, 
or  I'll  set  the  dog  on  you!" 

Well,  my  friends,  there  are  Christian  men  who  have 
the  Church  under  severe  guard.  There  is  fruit  in  this 
orchard  for  the  whole  world;  but  they  have  a  rough  and 
unsympathetic  way  of  accosting  outsiders,  as  though 
they  had  no  business  here,  though  the  Lord  wants  them 


THE  OUTSIDE  SHEEP. 


349 


all  to  come  and  take  the  largest  and  the  lipest  fruit  on 
the  premises.  Have  you  an  idea  that  because  you  were 
baptized  at  thirteen  months  of  age,  and  because  you  have 
all  your  life  been  under  hallowed  influences,  that  there- 
fore you  have  a  right  to  one  whole  side  of  the  Lord's 
table,  spreading  yourself  out  and  taking  up  the  entire 
room?  I  tell  you  no.  You  will  have  to  haul  in  your 
elbows,  for  I  shall  to-night  place  on  either  side  of  you 
those  whom  you  never  expected  would  sit  there;  for,  as 
Christ  said  to  the  Jews  long  ago,  so  he  says  to  you  and 
to  me  to-night:  "Other  sheep  I  have  which  are  not  of 
this  fold." 

]\lacDona!d,  the  Scotchman,  has  four  or  five  dozen 
head  of  sheep.  Some  of  them  are  browsing  on  the 
heather,  some  of  them  are  lying  down  under  the  trees, 
some  of  them  are  in  his  yard;  they  are  scattered  around 
in  eight  or  ten  different  places.  Cameron,  his  neighbor, 
comes  over  and  says:  "I  see  you  have  thirty  sheep;  I 
have  just  counted  them."  "No,"  says  MacDonald,  "I 
have  a  great  many  more  sheep  than  that.  Some  are 
here,  and  some  are  elsewhere.  They  are  scattered  all 
around  about.  I  have  four  or  five  thousand  in  my  flocks. 
Other  sheep  I  have,  which  are  not  in  this  fold.' " 

So  Christ  says  to  us.  Here  is  a  knot  of  Christians 
and  there  is  a  knot  of  Christians,  but  they  make  up  a 
small  part  of  the  flock.  Here  is  the  Episcopal  fold,  the 
Methodist  fold,  the  Lutheran  fold,  the  Congregational 
fold,  the  Presbyterian  fold,  the  Baptist  and  the  Pedo-Bap- 
tist  fold,  the  only  difference  between  these  last  two  being 
the  mode  of  sheep- washing;  and  so  they  are  scattered  all 
over;  and  we  come  with  our  statistics,  and  say  there  are  so 
many  thousand  of  the  Lord's  sheep;  but  Christ  responds: 
"Xo,  no;  you  have  not  seen  more  than  one  out  of  a 
thousand  of  my  flock.    They  are  scattered  all  over  the 


350  THE  OUTSIDE  SHEEP. 

earth.  'Other  sheep  I  have  which  are  not  of  this  fold.*  " 
Christ,  in  my  text,  was  prophesying  the  conversion  of 
the  Gentiles  with  as  much  confidence  as  though  they 
were  already  converted,  and  he  is,  to-night,  in  the  words 
of  my  text,  prophesying  the  coming  of  a  great  multi- 
tude of  outsiders  that  you  never  supposed  would  come 
in,  saying  to  you  and  saying  to  me:  "Other  sheep  I  have 
which  are  not  of  this  fold." 

In  the  first  place,  I  remark,  that  the  heavenly  Shep- 
herd will  find  many  of  his  sheep  amid  the  non-church- 
goers. There  are  congregations  where  they  are  all  Chris- 
tians, and  they  seem  to  be  completely  finished,  and  they 
remind  one  of  the  skeleton-leaves  which,  by  chemical 
preparation,  have  had  all  the  greenness  and  verdure 
taken  off  of  them,  and  are  left  cold,  and  white,  and  del- 
icate, nothing  wanting  but  a  glass  case  to  put  over  them. 
The  minister  of  Christ  has  nothing  to  do  with  such 
Christians  but  to  come  once  a  week,  and  with  ostrich 
feather  dust  off  the  accumulation  of  the  last  six  days, 
leaving  them  bright  and  crystalline  as  before.  But  the 
other  kind  of  a  Church  is  an  armory,  with  perpetual 
sound  of  drum  and  fife,  gathering  recruits  for  the  Lord 
of  hosts.  We  say  to  every  applicant:  "Do  you  want  to 
be  on  God's  side,  the  safe  side  and  the  happy  side?  If 
so,  come  in  the  armory  and  get  equipped.  Here  is  a 
bath  in  which  to  be  cleansed.  Here  are  sandals  to  put 
upon  your  feet.  Here  is  a  helmet  for  your  brow.  lie  e 
is  a  breast-plate  for  your  heart.  Here  is  a  sword  for 
your  right  arm,  and  yonder  is  the  battle-field.  Quit 
yourselves  like  men!" 

There  are  some  here  to-night,  who  say:  "I  stopped 
going  to  church  ten  or  twenty  years  ago."  My  brother, 
is  it  not  strange  that  you  should  be  the  first  man  I 
should  talk  to  to-night?    I  know  all  your  case;  I  know 


THE  OUTSIDE  SHEEP. 


351 


it  very  well.  You  have  not  been  accustomed  to  come 
into  the  house  of  God,  but  I  have  a  surprising  announce- 
ment to  make  to  you:  you  are  going  to  become  one  of 
the  Lord's  sheep.  "Ah,"  you  say,  "it  is  impossible. 
You  don't  know  how  far  I  am  from  anything  of  that 
kind."  I  know  all  about  it.  I  have  wandered  up  and 
down  the  world,  and  I  understand  .your  case.  I  have  a 
still  more  startling  announcement  to  make  in  regard  to 
you:  you  are  not  only  going  to  become  one  of  the  Lord's 
sheep,  but  you  will  become  one  to-night.  You  will  stay 
after  this  service  to  be  talked  with  about  your  soul. 
People  of  God,  pray  for  that  man!  That  is  the  only  use 
for  you  to-night.  I  shall  not  break  off  so  much  as  a 
crumb  for  you,  Christians,  in  this  sermon,  for  I  am  going 
to  give  it  all  to  the  outsiders.  "Other  sheep  I  have 
which  are  not  of  this  fold." 

When  the  Atlantic  went  to  pieces  on  Mars'  Rock, 
and  the  people  clambered  up  on  the  beach,  why  did 
not  that  heroic  minister  of  the  Gospel,  of  whom  we 
have  all  read,  sit  down  and  take  care  of  those  men  on 
the  beach,  wrapping  them  in  flannels,  kindling  fire  for 
them,  seeing  that  they  got  plenty  of  food?  Ah,  he  knew 
that  there  were  others  who  would  do  that.  He  says: 
"Yc  ader  are  men  and  women  freezing  in  the  rigging  of 
that  wreck.  Boys,  launch  the  boat!"  And  now  I  see 
the  oar-blades  bend  under  the  strong  pull;  but  before 
they  reached  the  rigging  a  woman  was  frozen  and  dead. 
She  was  washed  off,  poor  thing!  But  lie  says:  "There 
is  a  man  to  save;"  and  he  cries  out:  "Hold  on  five  min- 
utes longer,  and  I  will  save  you.  Steady!  Steady!  Give 
me  j  our  hand.  Leap  into  the  life-boat.  Thank  God,  he 
is  saved!"  So  there  are  those  here  to-night  who  are 
sale  on  the  shore  of  God's  mercy.  I  will  not  spend  any 
time  with  them  at  all;  but  I  see  there  are  some  who  are 


352 


THE  OUTSIDE  SHEEP. 


freezing  in  the  r'^ging  of  sin,  and  surrounded  by  peri 
lous  storms.  Pull  away,  my  lads!  Let  us  reach  them! 
Alas!  one  is  washed  off  and  gone.  There  is  one  more 
to  be  saved.  Let  us  push  out  for  that  one.  Clutch  the 
rope.  Oh!  dying  man,  clutch  it  as  with  a  death-grip. 
Steady,  now,  on  the  slippery  places.  Steady.  There! 
Saved!  Saved!  Just  as  I  thought.  For  Christ  has  de- 
clared that  there  are  some  still  in  the  breakers  who 
shall  come  ashore.  "Other  sheep  I  have  which  are  not 
of  this  fold." 

Christ  commands  his  ministers  to  be  fishermen;  and 
when  I  go  fishing  I  do  not  want  to  go  among  other 
churches,  but  into  the  wide  world;  not  sitting  along 
Hohokus  Creek,  where  eight  or  ten  other  persons  are 
sitting  with  hook  and  line,  but,  like  the  fishermen  of 
Newfoundland,  sailing  off  and  dropping  net  away  out- 
side, forty  or  fifty  miles  from  shore.  Yes,  there  are  non- 
church-goers  here  who  will  come  in.  Next  Sabbath 
morning  and  evening  they  will  be  here  again,  or  in  some 
better  church.  They  are  this  moment  being  swept  into 
Christian  associations.  Their  voice  will  be  heard  in 
public  prayer.  They  will  die  in  peace,  their  bed  sur- 
rounded by  Christian  sympathies,  and  be  carried  out  by 
devout  men  to  be  buried,  and  on  their  grave  be  chiseled 
the  words:  "Precious  in  the  sight  of  the  Lord  is  the 
death  of  his  saints."  And  on  Resurrection  day  yon 
will  get  up  with  the  dear  children  you  have  already 
buried  and  with  your  Christian  parents  who  have  already 
won  the  palm.  And  all  that  grand  and  glorious  history 
begins  to-night.  "Other  sheep  I  have  which  are  not  of 
this  fold." 

I  remark  again, '  the  Heavenly  Shepherd  is  going  to 
find  a  great  many  of  his  sheep  among  those  who  are 
positive  rejectors  of  Christianity.    I  do  not  know  how 


THE  OUTSIDE  SHEEP. 


353 


you  came  to  reject  Christianity.  It  may  have  been 
through  hearing  Theodore  Parker  preach,  or  through 
reading  Kenan's  "Life  of  Jesus,"  or  through  the  infidel 
talk  of  some  young  man  in  your  store.  It  may  have 
been  through  the  trickery  of  some  professed  Christian 
man  who  disgusted  you  with  religion.  I  do  not  ask  you 
how  you  became  so;  but  you  frankly  tell  me  to-night 
that  you  do  reject  it.  You  do  not  believe  that  Christ  is 
a  Divine  being,  although  you  admit  that  he  was  a  very 
good  man.  You  do  not  believe  that  the  Bibie  was  in- 
spired of  God,  although  you  think  that  there  are  some 
very  fine  things  in  it.  You  believe  that  the  Scriptural 
description  of  Eden  was  only  an  allegory.  There  are 
fifty  things  that  I  believe  that  you  do  not  believe  And 
yet  you  are  an  accommodating  man.  Everybody  that 
knows  you  says  that  of  you.  If  1  should  ask  you  to  do 
a  kindness  for  me,  or  if  any  one  else  should  ask  of  you  a 
kinv.-iess,  you  would  do  it.  Now,  I  have  a  kindness  to 
ask  of  you  to-night.  It  is  something  that  will  cost  you 
nothing  and  will  give  me  great  delight.  I  want  you  by 
experiment  to  try  the  power  of  Christ's  religion.  If  I 
should  come  to  you,  and  you  were  very  sick,  and  doctors 
had  given  you  up,  and  said  there  was  no  chance  for  you, 
and  I  should  take  out  a  bottle,  and  say:  "Here  is  a  med- 
icine that  will  cure  you;  it  has  cured  fifty  people,  and  it 
will  cure  you."  You  would  say:  "I  have  no  confidence 
in  it."  I  would  say:  "Won't  you  take  it  to  oblige  me?" 
"Well,"  you  would  say,  "If  it's  any  accommodation  to 
yon,  I'll  take  it."  My  friend,  will  you  be  just  as  accom- 
modating in  matters  of  religion?  There  are  some  of  you 
who  have  found  out  that  this  world  cannot  satisfy  your 
soul.  You  are  like  the  man  who  told  me  last  Sabbath 
night,  after  the  service  was  over,  "I  have  tried  thi- 
world  and  found  it  an  insufficient  portion.  Tell  me  o' 
23 


354 


THE  OUTSIDE  SHEEP. 


something  better."  You  have  come  to  that.  You  are 
sick  for  the  need  of  Divine  medicament.  Now,  I  come 
and  tell  you  of  a  Physician  who  will  cure  yon,  who  has 
<?ured  hundreds  and  hundreds  who  were  sick  as  you  are. 
"Oh,"  you  say,  "I  have  no  confidence  in  him."  But 
will  you  not  try  him?  Accommodate  me  in  this  matter; 
oblige  me  in  this  matter;  just  try  him.  I  am  very  cer- 
tain he  will  cure  you.  You  reply:  "I  have  no  especial 
confidence  in  him;  but  if  you  ask  me  as  a  matter  of  ac- 
commodation, introduce  him."  So  I  do  introduce  him 
— Christ,  the  Physician,  who  has  cured  more  blind  eyes, 
and  healed  more  ghastly  wounds,  and  bound  up  more 
broken  hearts,  than  all  the  doctors  since  the  time  of 
iEsculapius.  That  Divine  Physician  is  here.  Are  you 
not  ready  to  try  him?  Will  you  not,  as  a  pure  matter 
of  experiment,  try  him,  and  state  your  case  before  him 
to-night?  Hold  nothing  back  from  him.  If  you  can- 
not pray,  if  yon  do  not  know  how  to  pray  any  other  way, 
say  "O  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  this  is  a  strange  thing  for 
me  to  do.  I  know  nothing  about  the  formulas  of  relig- 
ion. These  Christian  people  have  been  talking  so  long 
about  what  thou  canst  do  for  me.  I  am  ready  to  do 
whatever  thou  commandest  me  to  do.  I  am  ready  to 
take  whatever  thou  commandest  me  to  take.  If  there 
be  any  power  in  religion,  as  these  people  say,  let  me 
have  the  advantage  of  it."  "Will  you  try  that  experi- 
ment to-night?  I  do  not  at  this  point  of  my  dis- 
course say  that  there  is  anything  in  religion;  but  I 
simply  say,  try  it — try  it.  Do  not  take  my  counsel  or 
the  counsel  of  any  clergyman,  if  you  despise  clergymen. 
Perhaps  we  may  be  talking  professionally;  perhaps  we 
may  be  prejudiced  in  the  matter;  perhaps  we  may  be 
hypocritical  in  our  utterances;  perhaps  we  may  preach 
because  we  are  paid  to  preach:  perhaps  our  advice  is  not 


THE  OUTSIDE  SHEEP. 


355 


worth  taking.  Then  take  the  counsel  of  some  very  re- 
spectable laymen,  as  John  Milton,  the  poet;  as  "William 
Wilberforce,  the  statesman ;  as  Isaac  Newton,  the  astron- 
omer; as  Robert  Boyle,  the  philosopher;  as  Locke,  the 
metaphysician.  They  never  preached  or  pretended  to 
preach;  and  yet  putting  down,  one  his  telescope,  and 
another  his  parliamentary  scroll,  and  another  his  electri- 
cian's wire,  they  all  declare  the  adaptedness  of  Christ's 
religion  to  the  wants  and  troubles  of  the  world.  If  you 
will  not  take  the  recommendation  of  ministers  of  the 
Gospel,  then  take  the  recommendations  of  highly  respect- 
able laymen.  Oh  men,  sceptical  and  struck  through 
with  unrest,  would  you  not  like  to  have  some  of  the 
peace  which  broods  over  our  souls  to-night?  I  know  all 
about  your  doubts.  I  have  been  through  them  all.  I 
have  gone  through  all  the  curriculum.  I  have  doubted 
whether  there  is  a  God,  whether  Christ  is  God.  I  have 
doubted  whether  the  Bible  was  true,  I  have  doubted 
the  immortality  of  the  soul,  I  have  doubted  my  own  ex- 
istence, I  have  doubted  everything;  and  yet,  out  of  that 
hot  desert  of  doubt  I  have  come  into  the  broad,  luxuri- 
ant, sunshiny  land  of  Gospel  hope,  and  peace,  and  com- 
fort; and  so  I  have  confidence  in  preaching  to  you  and 
asking  you  to  come  in.  However  often  you  may  have 
spoken  against  the  Bible,  or  however  much  you  may 
have  caricatured  religion,  step  ashore  from  that  rocking 
"and  tumultuous  sea.  If  you  go  home  to-night  adhering 
to  your  infidelities,  you  will  not  sleep  one  wink.  You 
do  not  want  your  children  to  come  up  with  your  skepti- 
cism. You  cannot  afford  to  die  in  that  midnight  dark- 
ness, can  you?  If  you  do  not  believe  in  anything  else, 
you  believe  in  love — a  father's  love,  a  mother's  love,  a 
wife's  love,  a  child's  love.  Then  let  me  tell  you  that 
God  loves  you  more  than  thorn  all.    Oh,  you  must  come 


356 


THE  OUTSIDE  SHEEP. 


in.  You  will  come  in.  The  great  heart  of  Christ  aches 
to  have  you  come  in,  and  Jesus  this  very  moment — 
whether  you  sit  or  stand — looks  into  your  eyes  and  says: 
"Other  sheep  I  have  which  are  not  of  this  fold." 

Again  I  remark,  that  the  Heavenly  Shepherd  is  going 
to  find  a  great  many  sheep  among  those  who  have  been 
flung  of  evil  habit.  It  makes  me  mad  to  see  Christian 
people  give  up  a  prodigal  as  lost.  There  are  those  who 
talk  as  though  the  grace  of  God  were  a  chain  of  forty  or 
fifty  links,  and  after  they  had  run  out,  there  was  nothing 
to  touch  the  depth  of  a  very  bad  case.  If  they  were 
hunting  and  got  off  the  track  of  the  deer,  they  would 
look  longer  among  the  brakes  and  bushes  for  the  lost 
game  than  they  have  been  looking  for  that  lost  soul. 
People  tell  us  that  if  a  man  has  delirium  tremens  twice, 
he  cannot  be  reclaimed;  that  after  a  woman  has  fallen 
from  her  integrity,  she  cannot  be  restored.  The  Bible 
has  distinctly  intimated  that  the  Lord  Almighty  is  ready 
to  pardon  four  hundred  and  ninety  times;  that  is,  sev- 
enty times  seven.  There  are  men  before  the  throne  of 
God  who  have  wallowed  in  every  kind  of  sin;  but,  saved 
by  the  grace  of  Jesus,  and  washed  in  his  blood,  they 
stand  there  radiant  now.  There  are  those  who  plunged 
into  the  very  lowest  hell  of  Elm-street,  New  York,  who 
have  for  the  tenth  time  been  lifted  up,  and  finally,  by 
the  grace  of  God,  they  stand  in  heaven  gloriously  res- 
cued by  the  grace  promised  to  the  chief  of  sinners.  I 
want  to  tell  you  that  God  loves  to  take  hold  of  a  very 
bad  case.  When  the  Church  casts  you  off,  and  when  the 
club-room  casts  you  off,  and  when  society  casts  you  off, 
and  when  business  associates  cast  you  off,  and  when 
father  casts  you  off,  and  when  mother  casts  you  off,  and 
when  everybody  casts  you  off,  your  first  cry  for  help  will 
bend  the  Eternal  God  clear  down  into  the  ditch  of  your 


THE  OUTSIDE  SHEEP. 


357 


suffering  and  shame.  The  Good  Templars  cannot  save 
you,  although  they  are  a  grand  institution.  The  Sons 
of  Temperance  cannot  save  you,  although  they  are 
mighty  for  good.  Signing  the  temperance  pledge  can- 
not save  you,  although  I  believe  in  it.  Nothing  but  the 
grace  of  the  Eternal  God  can  save  you,  and  that  will  if 
you  will  throw  yourself  on  it.  There  is  a  man  in  this 
house  to-night  who  said  to  me  during  the  week:  ''Unless 
God  helps  me  I  cannot  be  delivered.  I  have  tried  every- 
thing, sir;  but  now  I  have  got  in  the  habit  of  prayer, 
and  when  I  come  to  a  drinking  saloon  I  pray  that  God 
will  take  me  sate  past,  and  I  pray  until  I  am  past.  He 
does  help  me."  For  every  man  given  to  strong  drink 
there  are  scores  of  traps  set ;  and  when  he  goes  out  oh 
business  to-morrow,  with  his  bill  of  goods,  on  Broadway, 
or  John-street,  or  Walter-street,  or  Fulton-avenue,  or 
Atlantic-avenue,  he  will  be  in  infinite  peril,  and  no  one 
but  the  everywhere  present  God  can  see  that  man  through. 
Oh!  they  talk  about  the  catacombs  of  Naples,  and  the 
catacombs  of  Home,  and  the  catacombs  of  Fgypt — the 
burial  places  under  the  city  where  the  dust  of  a  great 
multitude  lie;  but  1  tell  you  Brooklyn  has  its  catacombs, 
and  New  York  its  catacombs,  and  Boston  its  catacombs, 
and  Philadelphia  its  catacombs.  They  are  the  under- 
ground restaurants,  full  of  dead  men's  bones  and  all  un- 
cleanness.  Young  man,  you  know  it.  God  help  you. 
There  is  no  need  of  going  into  the  art  gallery  to  see  in 
skillful  sculpture  that  wonderful  representation  of  a  man 
and  his  sons  wound  around  with  serpents.  There  are 
families  represented  in  this  house  to-night  that  are 
wrapped  in  the  martyrdom  of  fang  and  scale  and  venom 
— a  living  Laocoon  of  ghastliness  and  horror.  What 
are  you  to  do?  I  am  not  speaking  into  the  air.  I  am 
talking  to-night  to  hundreds  of  men  who  must  be  saved 


358 


THE  OUTSIDE  SHEEP. 


by  Christ's  Gospel,  or  never  saved  at  all.  What  are  you 
going  to  do?  Do  not  put  your  trust  in  bromide  of  po- 
tassium, or  in  Jamaica  ginger,  or  anything  that  apothe- 
caries can  mix.  Put  your  trust  only  in  the  Eternal  God, 
and  he  will  see  you  through.  Some  of  you  do  not  have 
temptations  every  day.  It  is  a  periodic  temptation  that 
comes  every  six  weeks,  or  every  three  months,  when  it 
seems  as  if  the  powers  of  darkness  kindle  around  about 
your  tongue  the  fires  of  the  pit.  It  is  well  enough,  at 
such  a  time,  as  some  of  you  do,  to  seek  medical  counsel; 
but  your  first  and  most  importunate  cry  must  be  to  God. 
If  the  fiends  will  drag  you  to  the  slaughter,  make  them 
do  it  on  your  knees.  O  God!  now  that  the  paroxysm  of 
thirst  is  coming  again  upon  that  man,  help  him!  Fling 
back  into  the  pit  of  hell  the  fiend  that  assaults  his  soul 
this  moment.  Oh!  my  heart  aches  to  see  men  go  on  in 
this  fearful  struggle  without  Christ. 

There  are  to-night  in  this  house  those  whose  hands  so 
tremble  from  dissipation  that  they  can  hardly  hold  a 
book;  and  yet  I  have  to  tell  you  that  they  will  yet  preach 
the  Gospel,  and  on  communion  days  carry  around  the 
consecrated  bread,  acceptable  to  everybody,  because  of 
their  holy  life,  and  their  consecrated  behavior.  The 
Lord  is  going  to  save  you.  Your  home  has  got  to  be 
rebuilt.  Your  physical  health  has  got  to  be  restored. 
Your  worldly  business  has  got  to  be  reconstructed.  The 
Church  of  God  is  going  to  rejoice  over  your  disci pleship. 
"Other  sheep  I  have  which  are  not  of  this  fold." 

While  I  have  hope  for  all  prodigals,  there  are  some 
people  in  this  house  to-night  whom  I  give  up  as  lost.  I 
mean  those  who  have  been  church-goers  all  their  life, 
who  have  maintained  outward  morality,  but  who,  not- 
withstanding twenty,  thirty,  forty  years  of  Christian 
advantages,  have  never  yielded  their  heart  to  Christ 


THE  OUTSIDE  SHEEP.  359 

They  are  Gospel  hardened.  I  could  call  their  names  now, 
and  if  they  would  rise  up  thej  would  rise  up  in  scores. 
Gospel  hardened!  A  sermon  has  no  more  effect  upon 
them  than  the  shining  of  the  moon  on  the  city  pave- 
ment. As  Christ  says:  'The  publicans  and  harlots  will 
go  into  the  kingdom  of  God  before  them."  They  have 
resisted  all  the  importunity  of  Divine  mercy,  and  have 
gone,  during  these  thirty  years,  through  most  powerful 
earthquakes  of  religious  feeling,  and  they  are  farther 
away  from  God  than  ever.  After  awhile  they  will  lie 
down  sick,  and  some  day  it  will  be  told  that  they  are 
dead.    No  hoj.e! 

But  I  turn  to  outsiders  with  a  hope  that  thrills  through 
my  body  and  soul.  "Other  sheep  I  have  which  are  not 
of  this  fold."  You  are  not  Gospel  hardened.  You  have 
not  heard  or  read  many  sermons  during  the  last  few 
years.  As  you  came  in  to-night  everything  was  novel, 
and  all  the  services  are  suggestive  of  your  early  days. 
How  sweet  the  opening  hymn  sounded  in  your  ears,  and 
how  blessed  it  is  in  tin's  place!  Everything  suggestive 
of  heaven.  You  do  not  weep,  but  the  shower  is  not  tar 
off.  You  sigh,  and  you  have  noticed  that  there  is  al- 
waj7s  a  sigh  in  the  wind  before  the  rain  falls.  There  are 
those  here  who  would  give  anything  if  they  could  find 
relief  in  tears.  They  say:  "Oh,  my  wasted  life!  Oh, 
the  bitter  past!  Oh,  the  graves  over  which  I  have  stum- 
bled! Whither  shall  I  fly?  Alas  for  the  future!  Every- 
thing is  dark — so  dark,  so  dark.  God  help  me!  God 
pity  me!"  Thank  the  Lord  for  that  last  utterance.  You 
have  begun  to  pray,  and  when  a  man  begins  to  petition, 
that  sets  all  heaven  flying  this  way,  and  God  steps  in 
and  beats  back  the  hounds  of  temptation  to  their  kennel^ 
and  around  about  the  poor  wounded  soul  puts  the  covert 
of  his  pardoning  mercy.    Hark!  I  hear  something  fall. 


360 


THE  OUTSIDE  SHEEP. 


What  was  that?  It  is  the  bars  of  the  fence  around  the 
sheep-fold.  The  shepherd  lets  them  down,  and  the 
hunted  sheep  of  the  mountain  bound  in;  some  of  them 
their  fleece  torn  with  the  brambles,  some  of  them  their 
feet  lame  with  the  dogs;  but  bounding  in.  Thank  God! 
"Other  sheep  I  have  which  are  nut  of  this  fold." 


THE  ACIDS  OF  THIS  LIFE. 


361 


CHAPTER  XXVIII. 

THE  ACIDS  OF  THIS  LIFE. 

When  Jesus,  therefore,  had  received  the  vinegar — John  xix:  30. 

The  brigands  of  Jerusalem  had  done  their  work.  It 
was  almost  sundown,  and  Jesus  was  dying.  Persons  in 
crucifixion  often  lingered  on  from  day  to  day — crying, 
begging,  and  cursing;  but  Christ  had  been  exhausted  by 
years  of  maltreatment.  Pillowless,  poorly  fed,  flogged 
— as  bent  over  and  tied  to  a  low  post,  his  bare  back  was 
inflamed  with  the  scourges  intersticed  with  pieces  of 
lead  and  bone — and  now  for  whole  hours,  the  weight  of 
his  body  hung  on  delicate  tendons,  and,  according  to  cus- 
tom, a  violent  stroke  under  the  armpits  had  been  given 
by  the  executioner.  Dizzy,  swooning,  nauseated,  fever- 
ish— a  world  of  agony  is  compressed  in  the  two  words: 
"I  thirst!''  O  skies  of  Judea,  let  a  drop  of  rain  strike 
on  his  burning  tongue!  0  world,  with  rolling  rivers, 
and  sparkling  hikes,  and  spraying  fountains,  give  Jesus 
something  to  drink!  If  there  be  any  pity  in  earth,  or 
heaven,  or  hell,  let  it  now  be  demonstrated  m  behalf  of 
this  royal  sufferer.  The  wealthy  women  of  Jerusalem 
used  to  have  a  fund  of  money  with  which  they  provided 
wine  for  those  people  who  died  in  crucifixion — a  power- 
ful opiate  to  deaden  the  pain;  but  Christ  would  not  take 
it.  He  wanted  to  die  sober,  and  so  he  refused  the  wine. 
But  afterward  they  go  to  a  cup  of  vinegar,  and  soak  a 
sponge  in  it,  and  put  it  on  a  stick  of  hyssop,  and  then 
press  it  against  the  hot  lips  of  Christ.    You  say  the 


362 


THE  ACIDS  OF  THIS  LIFE. 


wine  was  an  anaesthetic,  and  intended  to  relieve  or  deaden 
the  pain.  But  the  vinegar  was  an  insult.  I  am  dis- 
posed to  adopt  the  theory  of  the  old  English  commenta- 
tors, who  believed  that  instead  of  its  being  f,n  opiate  to 
soothe,  it  was  vinegar  to  insult.  Malaga  and  Burgundy 
for  grand  dukes  and  duchesses,  and  costly  wines  from 
royal  vats  for  bloated  imperials;  but  stinging  acids  for 
a  dying  Christ.    He  took  the  vinegar. 

In  some  lives  the  saccharine  seems  to  predominate. 
Life  in  sunshine  on  a  bank  of  flowers.  A  thousand 
hands  to  clap  approval.  In  December  or  in  January, 
looking  across  their  table,  they  see  all  their  family  pres- 
ent. Health  rubicund.  Skies  flamboyant.  Days  resil- 
ient. But  in  a  great  many  cases  there  are  not  so  many 
sugars  as  acids.  The  annoyances,  and  the  vexations,  and 
the  disappointments  of  life  overpower  the  successes. 
There  is  a  gravel  in  almost  every  shoe.  An  Arabian 
legend  says  that  there  was  a  worm  in  Solomon's  staff, 
gnawing  its  strength  away;  and  there  is  a  weak  spot  in 
every  earthly  support  that  a  man  leans  on.  King  George 
of  England  forgot  all  the  grandeurs  of  his  throne  be- 
cause, one  day  in  an  interview,  Beau  Brommell  called 
him  by  his  first  name,  and  addressed  him  as  a  servant, 
crying:  "George,  ring  the  bell!"  Miss  Langdon,  hon- 
ored all  the  world  over  for  her  poetic  genius,  is  so  wor- 
ried with  the  evil  reports  set  afloat  regarding  her,  that 
she  is  found  dead,  with  an  empty  bottle  of  prussic  acid 
in  her  hand.  Goldsmith  said  that  his  life  was  a  wretched 
being,  and  that  all  that  want  and  contempt  could  bring  to 
it  had  been  brought,  and  cries  out:  "What,  then,  is  there 
formidable  in  a  jail?"  Correggio's  fine  painting  is  hung 
up  for  a  tavern  sign.  Hogarth  cannot  sell  his  best  paint- 
ings except  through  a  raffle.  Andrew  Delsart  makes  the 
great  fresco  in  the  Church  of  the  Annunciata,  at  Flor- 


THE  ACIDS  OF  THIS  LIFE. 


303 


ence,  aDd  gets  for  pay  a  sack  of  corn;  and  there  are  an- 
noyances and  vexations  in  high  places  as  well  as  in  low- 
places,  showing  that  in  a  great  many  lives  the  sours  are 
greater  than  the  sweets.  "When  Jesus,  therefore,  had 
received  the  vinegar." 

It  is  absurd  to  suppose  that  a  man  who  has  alwayg 
been  well  can  sympathize  with  those  who  are  sick;  or 
that  one  who  has  always  been  honored  can  appreciate  the 
sorrow  of  those  who  are  despised;  or  that  one  who  has 
been  born  to  a  great  fortune  can  understand  the  distress 
and  the  straits  of  those  who  are  destitute.  The  fact  that 
Christ  himself  took  the  vinegar  makes  him  able  to  sym- 
pathize to-day  and  forever  with  all  those  whose  cup  is 
filled  with  sharp  acids  of  this  life.    He  took  the  vinegar! 

In  the  first  place,  there  is  the  sourness  of  betrayal. 
The  treachery  of  Judas  hurt  Christ's  feelings  more  than 
all  the  friendship  of  his  disciples  did  him  good.  You 
have  had  many  friends;  but  there  was  one  friend  upon 
whom  you  put  especial  stress.  You  feasted  him.  You 
loaned  him  money.  You  befriended  him  in  the  darli 
passes  of  life,  when  he  especially  needed  a  friend.  After- 
ward, he  turned  upon  you,  and  he  took  advantage  of 
your  former  intimacies.  Pie  wrote  against  you.  He 
talked  against  you.  He  microscopized  your  faults.  He 
fiung  contempt  at  you  when  you  ought  to  have  received 
from  him  nothing  but  gratitude.  At  first,  you  could 
not  sleep  at  night.  Then  you  went  about  with  a  sense 
of  having  been  stung.  That  difficulty  will  never  be 
healed,  for  though  mutual  friends  may  arbitrate  in  the 
matter  until  you  shall  shake  hands,  the  old  cordiality 
will  never  come  back.  Now,  1  commend  to  all  such  the 
sympathy  of  a  betrayed  Christ!  Why,  they  sold  him 
for  less  than  our  twenty  dollars!    They  all  forsook  him, 


THE  CITY  VAN  OR  BLACK  MARIA. 


THE   ACIDS  OF  THIS  LIFE. 


365 


There  is  also  the  sourness  of  poverty.  Your  income 
does  not  meet  your  outgoings,  and  that  always  gives  an 
honest  man  anxiety.  There  is  no  sign  of  destitution 
about  you — pleasant  appearance,  and  a  cheerful  home  for 
you;  but  God  only  knows  what  a  time  you  have  had  to 
manage  your  private  finances.  J ust  as  the  bills  run  up, 
the  wages  seem  to  run  down.  But  you  are  not  the  only 
one  who  has  not  been  paid  for  hard  work.  The  great 
Wilkie  sold  his  celebrated  piece — "The  Blind  Fiddler" — 
for  fifty  guineas,  although  afterwards  it  brought  its 
thousands.  The  world  hangs  in  admiration  over  the 
sketch  of  Gainsborough,  yet  that  very  sketch  hung  for 
years  in  the  shop- window  because  there  was  not  any 
purchaser.  Oliver  Goldsmith  sold  his  "Vi car  of  Wake- 
field" for  a  few  pounds,  in  order  to  keep  the  bailiff  out  of 
the  door;  and  the  vast  majority  of  men  in  all  occupa- 
tions and  professions  are  not  fully  paid  for  their  work. 
irou  may  say  nothing,  but  life  to  you  is  a  hard  push; 
and  when  you  sit  down  with  your  wife  and  talk  over  the 
expenses,  you  both  rise  up  discouraged.  You  abridge 
here,  and  you  abridge  there,  and  yon  get  things  snug  for 
smooth  sailings,  and  lo!  suddenly  there  is  a  large  doc- 
tor's bill  to  pay,  or  you  have  lost  your  pocket-book,  or 
some  creditor  has  failed,  and  you  are  thrown  a-beam  end 
Well,  brother,  you  are  in  glorious  company.  Christ 
owned  not  the  house  in  which  he  stopped,  or  the  colt  on 
which  he  rode,  or  the  boat  in  which  he  sailed.  He  lived 
in  a  borrowed  house;  he  was  buried  in  a  borrowed  grave. 
Exposed  to  all  kinds  of  weather,  yet  he  had  only  one 
suit  of  clothes.  He  breakfasted  in  the  morning,  and  no 
one  could  possibly  tell  where  he  could  get  anything  to 
eat  before  night.  He  would  have  been  pronounced  a 
financial  failure.  He  had  to  perform  a  miracle  to  get 
money  to  pay  a  tax-bill.   Not  a  dollar  did  he  own.  Pri- 


866 


THE  ACIDS  OF  THIS  LIFE. 


vation  of  domesticity;  privation  of  nutritious  food; 
privation  of  a  comfortable  couch  on  which  to  sleep;  pri- 
vation of  all  worldly  resources.  The  kings  of  the  earth 
had  chased  chalices  out  of  which  to  drink;  but  Christ 
had  nothing  but  a  plain  cup  set  before  him,  and  it  was 
very  sharp,  and  it  was  very  sour.    He  took  the  vinegar. 

There  also  is  the  sourness  of  bereavement.  There 
were  years  that  passed  along  before  your  family  circle 
was  invaded  by  death;  but  the  moment  the  charmed 
circle  was  broken,  everything  seemed  to  dissolve.  Hardly 
have  you  put  the  black  apparel  in  the  wardrobe,  before 
you  have  again  to  take  it  out.  Great  and  rapid  changes 
in  your  family  record.  You  got  the  house  and  rejoiced 
in  it,  but  the  charm  was  gone  as  soon  as  the  crape  hung 
on  the  door-bell.  The  one  upon  whom  you  most  de- 
pended was  taken  away  from  you.  A  cold  marble  slab 
lies  on  your  heart  to-day.  Once,  as  the  children  romped 
through  the  house,  you  put  your  hand  over  your  aching 
head,  and  said:  "Oh,  if  I  could  only  have  it  still."  Oh, 
itis^too  still  now.  You  lost  your  patience  when  the 
tops,  and  the  strings,  and  the  shells  were  left  amid  floor; 
but  oh,  you  would  be  willing  to  have  the  trinkets  scat- 
tered all  over  the  floor  again,  if  they  were  scattered  by 
the  same  hands.  With  what  a  ruthless  ploughshare  be- 
reavement rips  up  the  heart.  But  Jesus  knowTs  all  about 
that.  You  cannot  tell  him  anything  new  in  regard  to 
bereavement.  He  had  only  a  few  friends,  and  when  he 
lost  one  it  brought  tears  to  his  eyes.  Lazarus  had  often 
entertained  him  at  his  house.  Now  Lazarus  is  dead 
and  buried,  and  Christ  breaks  down  with  emotion — the 
convulsion  of  grief  shuddering  through  all  the  ages  of 
bereavement.  Christ  knows  what  it  is  to  go  through 
the  house  missing  a  familiar  inmate.  Christ  knows 
what  it  is  to  see  an  unoccupied  place  at  the  table.  Were 


THE  ACIDS  OF  THIS  LIFE. 


367 


there  not  four  of  them — Mary,  and  Martha,  and  Christ, 
and  Lazarus?  Four  of  them.  But  where  is  Lazarus? 
Lonely  and  afflicfed  Christ,  his  great  loving  eyes  filled 
with  tears,  which  drop  from  eye  to  cheek,  and  from  cheek 
to  beard,  and  from  beard  to  robe,  and  from  robe  to  floor. 
Oh,  yes,  yes,  he  knows  all  about  the  loneliness  and  the 
heartbreak.    He  took  the  vinegar! 

Then  there  is  the  sourness  of  the  death-hour.  What- 
ever else  we  may  escape,  that  acid- sponge  will  be  pressed 
to  our  lips.  I  sometimes  have  a  curiosity. to  know  how 
I  will  behave  when  I  come  to  die.  Whether  I  will  be 
calm  or  excited — whether  I  will  be  filled  with  reminis- 
cence or  with  anticipation.  I  cannot  say.  But  come  to 
the  point,  I  must  and  you  must.  In  the  six  thousand  years 
that  have  passed,  only  two  persons  have  got  into  the 
eternal  world  without  death,  and  I  do  not  suppose  that 
God  is  going  to  send  a  carriage  for  us  with  horses  of 
flame,  to  draw  us  up  the  steeps  of  heaven;  but  I  sup- 
pose we  will  have  to  go  like  the  preceding  generations. 
An  officer  from  the  future  world  will  knock  at  the  door 
of  our  heart  and  serve  on  us  the  writ  of  ejectment,  and 
we  will  have  to  surrender.  And  we  will  wake  up  after 
these  autumnal,  and  wintry,  and  vernal,  and  summery 
glories  havt  vanished  from  our  vision — we  will  wake  up 
into  a  realm  which  has  only  one  season,  and  that  the 
season  of  everlasting  love.  But  you  say:  "I  don't  want 
to  breakout  from  my  present  associations.  It  is  so  chilly 
and  so  damp  to  go  down  the  stairs  of  that  vault.  I 
don't  want  anything  drawn  so  tightly  over  my  eyes.  If 
there  were  only  some  way  of  breaking  through  the  par- 
tition between  worlds  without  tearing  this  body  all  to 
shreds.  I  wonder  if  the  surgeons  and  the  doctors  can- 
not compound  a  mixture  by  which  this  body  and  soul 
can  all  the  time  be  kept  together?    Is  there  no  escape 


tffH  THE  ACID8  OF  THIS  LIFE. 

from  this  separation?"  None;  absolutely  none.  So  I 
look  over  this  audience  to-day — the  vast  majority  of  you 
seeming  in  good  health  and  spirits — and  yet  I  realize 
that  in  a  short  time,  all  of  us  will  be  gone — gone  from 
earth,  and  gone  for  ever.  A  great  many  men  tumble 
through  the  gates  of  the  future,  as  it  were,  and  we  do 
not  know  where  they  have  gone,  and  they  only  add  gloom 
and  mystery  to  the  passage;  but  Jesns  Christ  so  might- 
ily stormed  the  gates  of  that  future  world,  that  they 
have  never  since  been  closely  shut.  Christ  knows  what 
it  is  to  leave  this  world,  of  the  beauty  of  which  he  was 
more  appreciative  than  we  ever  could  be.  He  knows 
the  exquisiteness  of  the  phosphorescence  of  the  sea;  he 
trod  it.  He  knows  the  glories  of  the  midnight  heavens; 
for  they  were  the  spangled  canopy  of  his  wilderness  pil- 
low. He  knows  about  the  lilies;  he  twisted  them  into 
his  sermon.  He  knows  about  the  fowls  of  the  air;  they 
whirred  their  way  through  his  discourse.  He  know3 
about  the  sorrows  of  leaving  this  beautiful  world.  Not 
a  taper  was  kindled  in  the  darkness.  He  died  physician- 
less.  He  died  in  cold  sweat,  and  dizziness,  and  hem- 
orrhage, and  agony  that  have  put  him  in  sympathy  with 
all  the  dying.  He  goes  through  Christendom,  and  he 
gathers  up  the  stings  out  of  all  the  death  pillows,  and 
he  puts  them  under  his  own  neck  and  head.  He  gathers 
on  his  own  tongue  the  burning  thirsts  of  many  genera- 
tions. The  sponge  is  soaked  in  the  sorrows  of  all  those 
who  have  died  in  their  beds  as  well  as  soaked  in  the  sor- 
rows of  all  those  who  perished  in  icy  or  fiery  martyrdom. 
While  heaven  was  pitying,  and  earth  was  mocking,  and 
hell  was  deriding,  he  took  the  vinegar. 

To  all  those  in  this  audience  to  whom  life  has  been  an 
acerbity — a  dose  they  could  not  swallow,  a  draught  that 
set  their  teeth  on  edge  and  a-rasping — I  preach  the  oro- 


THE  ACLD3  OF  THIS  LIFE. 


36(J 


nipotent  sympathy  of  Jesns  Christ.  The  sister  of  Her- 
schel  the  astronomer  used  to  help  him  in  his  work. 
He  got  all  the  credit;  she  got  none.  She  used  to  spend 
much  of  her  time  polishing  the  telescopes  through  which 
he  brought  the  distant  worlds  nigh,  and  it  is  my  ambi- 
tion now,  this  hour,  to  clear  the  lens  of  your  spiritual 
vision,  so  that  looking  through  the  dark  night  of  jour 
earthly  troubles  you  may  behold  the  glorious  constella- 
tion of  a  Savior's  mercy  and  a  Savior's  love.  Oh,  my 
friends,  do  not  try  to  carry  all  your  ills  alone.  Do  not 
put  your  poor  shoulder  under  the  Appenines  when  the 
Almighty  Christ  is  ready  to  lift  up  all  your  burdens. 
When  you  have  a  trouble  of  any  kind,  you  rush  this 
way,  and  that  way;  and  you  wonder  what  this  man  will 
say  about  it,  and  what  that  man  will  say  about  it;  and 
you  try  this  prescription,  and  that  prescription,  and  the 
other  prescription.  Oh,  why  do  you  not  go  straight  to 
the  heart  of  Christ,  knowing  that  for  our  own  sinning 
and  suffering  race  he  took  the  vinegar! 

There  was  a  vessel  that  had  been  tossed  on  the  seas 
for  a  great  many  weeks,  and  been  disabled,  and  the  sup- 
ply of  water  gave  out,  and  the  crew  were  dying  of  thirst. 
After  many  days,  they  saw  a  sail  against  the  sky.  They 
signaled  it.  When  the  vessel  came  nearer,  the  people 
on  the  suffering  ship  cried  to  the  captain  of  the  other 
vessel:  "Send  us  some  water.  We  are  dying  for  lack  of 
water."  And  the  captain  on  the  vessel  that  was  hailed 
responded:  "Dip  your  buckets  where  you  are.  You  are 
in  the  mouth  of  the  Amazon,  and  there  are  scores  of 
miles  of  fresh  water  all  around  about  you,  and  hundreds 
of  feet  deep."  And  then  they  dropped  their  biwkets 
over  the  side  of  the  vessel,  and  brought  up  the  clear, 
bright,  fresh  water,  and  put  out  the  fire  of  their  thirst. 
So  I  hail  you  to-day,  after  a  long  and  perilous  voyage, 
24 


4 


370 


THE  ACIDS  OF  THIS  LIFE. 


thirsting  as  you  are  for  pardon,  and  thirsting  for  com- 
fort, and  thirsting  for  eternal  life;  and  I  ask  you,  What  is 
the  use  of  your  going  in  that  death-struck  state,  while 
all  around  you  is  the  deep,  clear,  wide,  sparkling  flood 
of  God's  sympathetic  mercy?  Oh,  dip  your  buckets,  and 
drink,  and  live  forever.  "Whosoever  will,  let  him  come 
and  take  of  the  water  of  life  freely." 

Yet  my  utterance  i6  almost  choked  at  the  thought  that 
there  are  people  here  who  will  refuse  this  Divine  sym- 
pathy; and  they  will  try  to  fight  their  own  battles,  and 
drink  their  own  vinegar,  and  carry  their  own  burdens; 
and  their  life,  instead  of  being  a  triumphal  march  from 
victory  to  victory,  will  be  a  hobbling-on  from  defeat  to 
defeat,  until  they  make  final  surrender  to  retributive 
disaster.  Oh,  I  wish  I  could  this  morning  gather  up  in 
mine  arms  all  the  woes  of  men  and  women — all  their 
heartaches — all  their  disappointments — all  their  chagrins 
— and  just  take  them  right  to  the  feet  of  a  sympathizing 
Jesus.    He  took  the  vinegar. 

Nana  Sahib,  after  he  had  lost  his  last  battle  in  India, 
fell  back  into  the  jungles  of  Iheri — jungles  so  full  of 
malaria  that  no  mortal  can  live  there.  He  carried  with 
him  also  a  ruby  of  great  lustre  and  of  great  value.  He 
died  in  those  jungles;  his  body  was  never  found,  and 
the  ruby  has  never  yet  been  discovered.  And  I  fear  that 
to-day  there  are  some  who  will  fall  back  from  this  sub- 
ject into  the  sickening,  killing  jungles  of  their  sin,  car- 
rying a  gem  of  intinite  value — a  priceless  soul — to  be 
lost  forever.  Oh,  that  that  ruby  might  flash  in  the  eter- 
nal coronation.  But  no.  There  are  some,  I  fear,  in  this 
audience  who  turn  away  from  this  offered  mercy,  and 
comfort,  and  Divine  sympathy;  notwithstanding  that 
Christ,  for  all  who  would  accept  his  grace,  trudged  the 
long  way,  and  suffered  the  lacerating  thongs,  and  received 


THE  ACIDS  OF  THIS  LIFE. 


371 


in  his  face  the  expectorations  of  the  filthy  mob,  and  for 
the  guilty,  and  the  discouraged,  and  the  discomforted  of 
the  race,  took  the  vinegar.  May  God  Almighty  break 
the  infatuation,  and  lead  you  out  into  the  strong  hope> 
and  the  good  cheer,  and  the  glorious  sunshine  of  thii 
triumphant  GospeH 


/ 


THE  DIVISION  OF  SPOILS, 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 

THE  DIVISION  OF  SPOILS. 

In  the  morning  he  shall  devour  the  prey,  and  at  night  he  shall  di 
vide  the  spoil. — Gen.  xlix:  27. 

There  is  in  this  chapter  such  an  affluence  of  simile 
and  allegory,  such  a  mingling  of  metaphors,  that  there 
are  a  thousand  thoughts  in  it  not  on  the  surface.  Old 
Jacob,  dying,  is  telling  the  fortunes  of  his  children. 
He  prophesies  the  devouring  propensities  of  Benjamin 
and  his  descendants.  With  his  dim  old  eyes  he  looks 
off  and  sees  the  hunters  going  out  to  -the  fields,  ranging 
them  all  day,  and  at  nightfall  coming  home,  the  game 
slung  over  the  shoulder,  and  reaching  the  door  of  the 
tent,  the  hunters  begin  to  distribute  the  game,  and  one 
takes  a  coney,  and  another  a  rabbit,  and  another  a  roe. 
"In  the  morning  lie  shall  devour  the  prey,  and  at  night 
he  shall  divide  the  spoil."  Or  it  may  be  a  reference  to 
the  habits  of  wild  beasts  that  slay  their  prey,  and  then 
drag  it  back  to  the  cave  or  lair,  and  divide  it  among  the 
young. 

There  is  nothing  more  fascinating  than  the  life  of  a 
hunter.  On  a  certain  day  in  all  England  you  can  hear 
the  crack  of  the  sportsman's  gun,  because  grouse  hunt- 
ing has  begun;  and  every  man  that  can  afford  the  time 
and  ammunition,  and  can  draw  a  bead,  starts  for  the 
fields.  On  the  20th  of  October  our  woods  and  forests 
will  resound  with  the  shock  of  firearms,  and  will  be 
tracked  of  pointers  and  setters,  because  the  quail  will 


THE  DIVISION  OF  SPOILS. 


373 


then  be  a  lawful  prize  for  the  sportsman.  Xenophon 
grew  eloquent  in  regard  to  the  art  of  hunting.  In  the 
far  East,  people,  elephant-mounted,  chase  the  tiger.  The 
American  Indian  darts  his  arrow  at  the  buffalo  until  the 
frightened  herd  tumble  over  the  rocks.  European  nobles 
are  often  found  in  the  fox-chase  and  at  the  stag-hunt. 
Francis  I.  was  called  the  father  of  hunting.  Moses  de- 
clares  of  Nimrod:  "He  was  a  mighty  hunter  before  the 
Lord."  Therefore,  in  all  ages  of  the  world,  the  imag- 
ery of  my  text  ought  to  be  suggestive,  whether  it  means 
a  wolf  after  a  fox,  or  a  man  after  a  lion.  "In  the  morn- 
ing he  shall  devour  the  prey,  and  at  night  he  shall  di- 
vide the  spoils." 

I  take  my  text,  in  the  first  place,  as  descriptive  of 
those  people  who  in  the  morning  of  their  life  give  them- 
selves up  to  hunting  the  world,  but  afterward,  by  the 
grace  of  God,  in  the  evening  of  their  life  divide  among 
themselves  the  spoils  of  Christian  character.  There  are 
aged  Christian  men  and  women  in  this  house  who,  if 
tffey  gave  testimony,  would  tell  you  that  in  the  morning 
of  their  life  they  were  after  the  world  as  intense  as  a 
hound  after  a  1  are,  or  as  a  falcon  swoops  upon  a  gazelle. 
They  wanted  the  world's  plaudits  and  the  world's  gains. 
They  felt  that  if  they  could  get  this  world  they  would 
have  everything.  Some  of  them  started  out  for  the 
pleasures  of  the  world.  They  thought  that  the  man  who 
laughed  loudest  was  happiest.  They  tried  repartee,  and 
conundrum,  and  burlesque,  and  madrigal.  They  thought 
they  would  like  to  be  Tom  Hoods,  or  Charles  Lambs,  or 
Edgar  A.  Poes.  They  mingled  wine,  and  music,  and 
the  spectacular.  They  were  worshippers  of  the  harle- 
quin, and  the  merry  Andrew,  and  the  buffoon,  and  the 
jester.  Life  was  to  them  foam,  and  bubble,  and  cachin- 
nation,  and  roystering,  and  grimace.    They  were  so  full 


374 


THE  DIVISION  OF  SPOILS. 


of  glee  they  could  hardly  repress  their  mirth,  even  on 
solemn  occasions,  and  they  came  near  bursting  out  hilar- 
iously even  at  the  burial,  because  there  was  something 
so  dolorous  in  the  tone  or  countenance  of  the  undertaker. 
After  awhile  misfortune  struck  them  hard  on  the  back. 
They  found  there  was  something  they  could  not  laugh 
at.  Under  their  late  hours  their  health  gave  way,  or 
there  was  a  death  in  the  house.  Of  every  green  thing 
their  soul  was  exfoliated.  They  found  out  that  life  was 
more  than  a  joke.  From  the  heart  of  God  there  blazed 
into  their  soul  an  earnestness  they  had  never  felt  before. 
They  awoke  to  their  sinfulness  and  their  immortality, 
and  here  they  sit  to-night,  at  sixty  or  seventy  years  of 
age,  as  appreciative  of  all  innocent  mirth  as  they  ever 
were,  but  they  are  bent  on  a  style  of  satisfaction  which 
in  early  life  they  never  hunted ;  the  evening  of  their 
days  brighter  than  the  morning.  In  the  morning  they 
devoured  the  prey,  but  at  night  they  divided  the  spoils. 

Then  there  are  others  who  started  out  for  financial 
success.  They  see  how  limber  the  rim  of  a  man's  hat  is 
when  he  bows  down  before  some  one  transpicuous.  They 
felt  they  would  like  to  see  how  the  world  looked  from 
the  window  of  a  three  thousand  dollar  turn-out.  They 
thought  they  would  like  to  have  the  morning  sunlight 
tangled  in  the  head-gear  of  a  dashing  span.  They 
wanted  the  bridges  in  the  park  to  resound  under  the 
rataplan  of  their  swift  hoofs.  They  wanted  a  gilded 
baldrick,  and  so  they  started  on  the  dollar  hunt.  They 
chased  it  up  one  street  and  chased  it  down  another. 
They  followed  it  when  it  burrowed  in  the  cellar.  They 
treed  it  in  the  roof.  Wherever  a  dollar  was  expected  to 
be,  they  were.  They  chased  it  across  the  ocean.  They 
chased  it  across  the  land.  They  stopped  not  for  the 
night.     Hearing  that  dollar,  even  in  the  darkness, 


THE  DIVISION  OF  SPoILS. 


375 


thrilled  them  as  an  Adirondack  sportsman  is  thrilled  at 
midnight  by  a  loon's  laugh.  They  chased  that  dollar  to 
the  money -vault.  They  chased  it  to  the  government 
treasury.  They  routed  it  from  under  the  counter.  All 
the  hounds  were  out — all  the  pointers  and  the  setters. 
They  leaped  the  hedges  for  that  dollar,  and  they  cried: 
"Hark  away!  a  dollar!  a  dollar!"  And  when  at  last 
they  came  upon  it  and  had  actually  captured  it,  their 
excitement  was  like  that  of  a  falconer  who  has  success- 
fully flung  his  first  hawk.  In  the  morning  of  their  life, 
oh,  how  they  devoured  the  prey!  But  there  came  a  bet- 
ter time  to  their  soul.  They  found  out  that  an  immoral 
nature  cannot  live  on  "greenbacks."  They  took  up  a 
Northern  Pacific  bond,  and  there  was  a  hole  in  it  through 
which  they  could  look  into  the  uncertainty  of  all  earthly 
treasures.  They  saw  some  Ralston,  living  at  the  rate  of 
twenty-five  thousand  dollars  a  month,  leaping  from  San 
Francisco  wharf  because  he  could  not  continue  to  live  at 
the  same  ratio.  They  saw  the  wizen  and  paralytic  bank- 
ers who  had  changed  their  souls  into  molten  gold 
stamped  with  the  image  of  the  earth,  earthy.  They  saw 
some  great  souls  by  avarice  turned  into  homuncuU,  and 
they  said  to  themselves:  "I  will  seek  after  higher  treas- 
ure." From  that  time  they  did  not  care  whether  they 
walked  or  rode,  if  Christ  walked  with  them;  nor  whether 
they  lived  in  a  mansion  or  in  a  hut,  if  they  dwelt  under 
the  shadow  of  the  Almighty;  nor  whether  they  were 
robed  in  French  broadcloth  or  in  a  homespun,  if  they 
had  the  robe  of  the  Savior's  righteousness;  nor  whether 
they  were  sandalled  with  morocco  or  calf-skin,  if  they 
were  shod  with  the  preparation  of  the  gospel.  Now  you 
see  peace  on  their  countenance.  Now  that  man  says: 
"What  a  fool  I  was  to  be  enchanted  with  this  world. 
Why,  I  have  more  satisfaction  in  five  minutes  in  the 


376 


THE  DIVISION  OF  SPOILS. 


service  of  God  than  I  had  in  all  the  first  years  of  ray 
life  while  I  was  gain  getting.  I  like  this  evening  of  my 
day  a  great  deal  better  than  I  did  the  morning.  In  the 
morning  I  greedily  devoured  the  prey;  but  now  it  is 
evening,  and  I  am  gloriously  dividing  the  spoil." 

My  friends,  this  world  is  a  poor  thing  to  hunt.  It  is 
healthful  to  go  out  in  the  woods  and  hunt.  It  rekindles 
the  lustre  of  the  eye.  It  strikes  the  brown  of  the  au- 
tumnal leaf  into  the  cheek.  It  gives  to  the  rheumatic 
limbs  a  strength  to  leap  like  the  roe.  Christopher 
North's  pet  gun,  the  muckle-mounted-Meg,  going  off  in 
the  summer  in  the  forests,  had  its  echo  in  the  winter- 
time in  the  eloquence  that  rang  through  the  university 
halls  of  Edinburgh.  It  is  healthy  to  go  hunting  in  the 
fields;  but  I  tell  you  that  it  is  belittling  and  bedwarfing 
and  belaming  for  a  man  to  hunt  this  world.  The  ham- 
mer comes  down  on  the  gun-cap,  and  the  barrel  explodes 
and  kills  you  instead  of  that  which  you  are  pursuing. 
When  you  turn  out  to  hunt  the  world,  the  world  turns 
out  to  hunt  you;  and  as  many  a  sportsman  aiming  his 
gun  at  a  panther's  heart  has  gone  down  under  the  striped 
claws,  so,  while  you  have  been  attempting  to  devour 
this  world,  the  wTorld  has  been  devouring  you.  So  it 
was  with  Lord  Byron.  So  it  was  with  Coleridge.  So  it 
was  with  Catherine  of  Russia^  Henry  II.  went  out 
hunting  for  this  world,  and  its  lances  struck  through  his 
heart.  Francis  I.  aimed  at  the  wrorld,  but  the  assassin's 
dagger  put  an  end  to  his  ambition  "and  his  life  wTith  one 
stroke.  Mary  Queen  of  Scots  wrote  on  the  window  of 
her  castle: 

"From  the  top  of  all  my  trust 
Mishap  hath  laid  me  in  the  dust." 

The  Queen  Dowager  of  Navarre  was  offered  for  her 
wedding  day  a  costly  and  beautiful  pair  of  gloves,  and 


THE  DIVISION  OF  SPOILS. 


377 


she  put  them  on;  but  thej  were  poisoned  gloves,  and 
they  took  her  life.  Better  a  bare  hand  of  cold  privation 
than  a  warm  and  poisoned  glove  of  ruinous  success. 
"Oh,"  says  some  young  man  in  the  audience,  "I  believe 
what  you  are  preaching.  I  am  going  to  do  that  very 
thing.  In  the  morning  of  my  life  I  am  going  to  devour 
the  prey,  and  in  the  evening  I  shall  divide  the  spoils  of 
Christian  character.  I  only  want  a  little  while  to  sow 
my  wild  oats,  and  then  I  will  be  good."  Young  man, 
did  you  ever  take  the  census  of  all  the  old  people?  How 
many  old  people  are  there  in  your  house?  One,  two,  or 
none?  How  many  in  a  vast  assemblage  like  this?  Only 
here  and  there  a  gray  head,  like  the  patches  of  snow  here 
and  there  in  the  fields  on  a  late  April  day.  The  fact  is 
that  the  tides  of  the  years  are  so  strong,  that  men  go 
down  under  them  before  they  get  to  be  sixty,  before  they 
get  to  be  fifty,  before  they  get  to  be  forty,  before  they 
get  to  be  thirty;  and  if  you,  my  young  brother,  resolve 
now  that  you  will  spend  the  morning  of  your  days  in 
devouring  the  prey,  the  probability  is  that  you  will 
never  divide  the  spoils  in  the  evening  hour.  He  who 
postpones  until  old  age  the  religion  of  Jesus  Christ,  post- 
pones it  forever.  Where  are  the  men  who,  thirty  years 
ago,  resolved  to  become  Christians  in  old  age,  putting  it 
off  a  certain  number  of  years?  They  are  in  the  lost 
world  to-night.  They  never  got  to  be  old.  The  railroad 
collision,  or  the  steamboat  explosion,  or  the  slip  on  the 
ice,  or  the  falling  ladder,  or  the  sudden  cold  put  an  end 
to  their  opportunities.  They  have  never  had  an  oppor- 
tunity since,  and  never  will  have  an  opportunity  again. 
They  locked  the  door  of  heaven  against  their  soul,  and  they 
threw  away  the  key;  and  if  they  could  to-night  break 
jail  and  come  up  shrieking  to  this  audience,  I  do  not 
think  they  would  take  two  minutes  to  persuade  us  all  to 


378 


THE  DIVISION   OF  SPOILS. 


repentance.  They  chased  the  world,  and  they  died  in 
the  chase.  The  wounded  tiger  turned  on  them.  They 
failed  to  take  the  game  that  they  pursued.  Mounted  on 
a  swift  courser,  they  leaped  the  hedge,  but  the  courser 
fell  on  them  and  crushed  them.  Proposing  to  barter 
their  soul  for  the  world,  they  lost  both  and  got  neither. 

While  this  is  an  encouragement  to  old  people  who  are 
to-night  unpardoned,  it  is  no  encouragement  to  the 
young  who  are  putting  off  the  day  of  grace.  This  doc- 
trine that  the  old  may  be  repentant  is  to  be  taken  cau- 
tiously. It  is  medicine  that  kills  or  cures.  The  same 
medicine,  given  to  different  patients,  in  one  case  it  saves 
life,  and  in  the  other  it  destroys  it.  This  possibility  of 
repentance  at  the  close  of  life  may  cure  the  old  man 
while  it  kills  the  young.    Be  cautions  in  taking  it. 

Again:  my  subject  is  descriptive  of  those  who  come 
to  a  sudden  and  a  radical  change.  You  have  noticed 
how  short  a  time  it  is  from  morning  to  night — only 
seven  or  eight  hours.  You  know  that  the  day  has  a  very 
brief  life.  Its  heart  beats  twenty-four  times,  and  then 
it  is  dead.  How  quick  this  transition  in  the  character 
of  these  Benjaminites!  "In  the  morning  they  shall  de- 
vour the  prey,  and  at  night  they  shall  divide  the  spoils." 
Is  it  possible  that  there  shall  be  such  a  transformation 
in  any  of  our  characters?  Yes,  a  man  may  be  at  seven 
o'clock  in  the  morning  an  all-devouring  worldling,  and 
at  seven  o'clock  at  night  he  may  be  a  peaceful,  distribu- 
tive Christian.  Conversion  is  instantaneous.  A  man 
passes  into  the  kingdom  of  God  quicker  than  down  the 
sky  runs  zig-zag  lightning.  A  man  may  be  anxious 
about  his  soul  for  a  great  many  years;  that  does  not  make 
him  a  Christian.  A  man  may  pray  a  great  while;  that 
does  not  make  him  a  Christian.  A  man  may  resolve  on 
the  reformation  of  his  character,  and  have  that  resolu- 


THE  DIVISION  OF  SPOILS. 


379 


tion  going  on  a  great  while;  that  does  not  make  him  a 
Christian.  But  the  very  instant  when  he  flings  his  soul 
on  the  mercy  of  Jesus  Christ,  that  instant  is  lustration, 
emancipation,  resurrection.  Up  to  that  point  he  is  going 
in  the  wrong  direction;  after  that  point  he  is  going  in 
the  right  direction.  Before  that  moment  he  is  a  child 
of  sin;  after  that  moment  he  is  a  child  of  God.  Before 
that  moment  hellward;  after  that  moment  heavenward. 
Before  that  moment  devouring  the  pre}*;  after  that  mo- 
ment dividing  the  spoil.  Five  minutes  is  as  good  as 
five  years.  My  hearer,  you  know  very  well  that  the  best 
things  you  have  done  you  have  done  in  a  flash.  You 
made  up  your  mind  in  an  instant  to  buy,  or  to  sell,  or  to 
invest,  or  to  stop,  or  to  start.  If  you  had  missed  that 
one  chance,  you  would  have  missed  it  forever.  Now 
just  as  precipitate,  and  quick,  and  spontaneous  will  be 
the  ransom  of  your  soul.  This  morning  you  were  mak- 
ing a  calculation.  You  got  on  the  track  of  some  finan- 
cial or  social  game.  With  your  pen  or  pencil  you  were 
pursuing  it.  This  very  morning  you  were  devouring  the 
prey;  but  to-night  you  are  in  a  different  mood.  You 
find  that  all  heaven  is*  offered  you.  You  wonder  how 
you  can  get  it  for  yourself  and  for  your  family.  You 
wonder  what  resources  it  will  give  you  now  and  here- 
after. You  are  dividing  peace,  and  comfort,  and  satis- 
faction, and  Christian  reward  in  your  soul.  You  are 
dividing  the  spoil. 

Last  Sabbath-night,  at  the  close  of  the  service,  I  said 
to  some  persons:  "When  did  you  first  become  serious 
about  your  soul?"  And  they  told  me:  "To-night."  And 
I  said  to  others:  "When  did  you  give  your  heart  to 
God?"  And  they  said:  "To-night."  And  I  said  to  still 
others:  "When  did  you  resolve  to  serve  the  Lord  all  the 
days  of  your  life?"    And  they  said:  "To-night."    I  saw 


380 


THE  DIVISION  OF  SPOILS. 


by  the  gaiety  of  their  apparel  that  when  the  grace  of 
God  struck  them  they  were  devouring  the  prey;  but  I 
saw  also,  in  the  flood  of  joyful  tears,  and  in  the  kindling 
raptures  on  their  brow,  and  in  their  exhilarant  and  trans- 
porting utterances,  that  they  were  dividing  the  spoil.  If 
any  of  you  were  in  this  building  when  these  lights  were 
struck  to-night,  you  know  that  with  one  touch  of  elec- 
tricity they  all  blazed.  Oh,  I  would  to  God  that  the 
darkness  of  your  souls  might  be  broken  up,  and  that  by 
one  quick,  overwhelming,  instantaneous  flash  of  illumin- 
ation you  might  be  brought  into  the  light  and  the  lib- 
erty of  the  sons  of  God! 

You  see  that  religion  is  a  different  thing  from  what 
some  of  you  people  supposed.  You  thought  it  was  de- 
cadence; you  thought  religion  was  maceration;  you 
thought  it  was  highway  robbery;  that  it  struck  one 
down  and  left  him  half  dead;  that  it  plucked  out  the 
eyes;  that  it  plucked  out  the  plumes  of  the  soul;  that 
it  broke  the  wing  and  crushed  the  beak  as  it  came  claw- 
ing with  its  black  talons  through  the  air.  No,  that  is 
not  religion.  What  is  religion?  It  is  dividing  the  spoils. 
It  is  taking  a  defenceless  soul  and  panoplying  it  for 
eternal  conquest.  It  is  the  distribution  of  prizes  by  the 
king's  hand,  every  medal  stamped  with  a  coronation. 
It  is  an  exhilaration,  an  expansion.  It  is  imparadisa- 
tion.  It  is  enthronement.  Religion  makes  a  man  mas- 
ter of  earth,  and  death,  and  hell.  It  goes  forth  to  gather 
the  medals  of  victory  won  by  Prince  Emanuel,  and  the 
diadems  of  heaven,  and  the  glories  of  realms  terrestrial, 
and  celestial,  and  then,  after  ranging  all  worlds  for  every- 
thing that  is  resplendent,  it  divides  the  spoil.  What  was  it 
that  James  Turner,  the  famous  English  evangelist,  was  do- 
ing when  in  his  dying  moment  he  said:  "Christ  is  all! 
Christ  is  all!"    Why,  he  was  entering  into  light;  he  was 


thh:  division  of  spuils. 


381 


rounding  the  Cape  of  Good  Hope;  he  was  dividing  the 
spoil.  What  was  the  aged  Christian  Quakeress  doing  when 
at  eighty  years  of  age  she  arose  in  the  meeting  one  day  and 
said:  "The  time  of  my  departure  is  come.  My  grave 
clothes  are  falling  off'?    She  was  dividing  the  spoil. 

"She  longed  with  wings  to  fly  away, 
And  mix  with  that  eternal  day." 

What  is  Daniel  now  doing,  the  lion  tamer?  and  Elijah 
who  was  drawn  by  the  flaming  coursers?  and  Paul,  the 
rattling  of  whose  chains  made  kings  quake?  and  all  the 
other  victims  of  flood,  and  tire,  and  wreck,  and  guillotine 
— where  are  they?    Dividing  the  spoil. 

"Ten  thousand  times  ten  thousand, 

In  sparkling  raiment  bright, 
The  armies  of  the  ransomed  saints 
Throng  up  the  steeps  of  light. 

"  Tis  finished,  all  is  finished, 

Their  fight  with  death  and  sin; 
Lift  high  your  golden  gates, 
And  let  the  victors  in." 

Oh,  what  a  grand  thing  it  is  to  be  a  Christian!  We 
begin  to-night  to  divide  the  spoil,  but  the  distribution 
will  not  be  completed  to  all  eternity.  There  is  a  poverty- 
struck  soul,  there  is  a  business-despoiled  soul,  there  is  a 
sin-struck  soul,  there  is  a  bereaved  soul — why  do  you 
not  come  and  get  the  spoils  of  Christian  character,  the 
comfort,  the  joy,  the  peace,  the  salvation  that  I  am  sent 
to  offer  you  in  my  Master's  name?  Though  your  knees 
knock  together  in  weakness,  though  your  hand  tremble 
in  fear,  though  your  eyes  rain  tears  of  uncontrollable 
weeping — come  and  get  the  spoils.  Rest  for  all  the 
weary.  Pardon  for  all  the  guilty.  Labor  for  all  the 
bestormed.  Life  for  all  the  dead.  I  verily  believe  that 
there  are  some  who  have  come  in  here  outcast  because 


382 


THE  DIVISION  OF  SPOILS. 


the  world  is  against  them,  and  because  they  feel  God  is 
against  them,  who  will  go  away  to-night,  saying: 

"I  came  to  Jesus  as  I  was, 
Weary  and  worn  and  sad; 
I  found  in  him  a  resting  place, 
And  he  has  made  me  glad." 

Though  you  came  in  children  of  the  world,  you  may 
go  away  heirs  of  heaven.  Though  this  very  autumnal 
morning  you  were  devouring  the  prey,  to-night,  all 
worlds  witnessing,  you  may  divide  the  spoil. 


THE  BLACKSMITHS'  CAPTIVITY. 


383 


CHAPTER  XXX. 

THE  BLACKSMITHS'  CAPTIVITY. 

Now  there  was  no  smith  found  throughout  all  the  land  of  Israel : 
for  the  Philistines  said,  lest  the  Hebrews  make  them  swords  or  spears. 
But  all  the  Israelites  went  down  to  the  Philistines  to  sharpen  every 
man  his  share,  and  his  coulter,  and  his  axe,  and  his  mattock.  Yet 
they  had  a  file  for  the  mattocks,  and  for  the  coulters,  and  for  the 
forks,  and  for  the  axes,  and  to  sharpen  the  goads. — I.  Samuel 
xiii :  19-21. 

What  a  scalding  subjugation  for  the  Israelites!  The 
Philistines  had  carried  off  all  the  blacksmiths,  and  torn 
down  all  the  blacksmiths'  shops,  and  abolished  the  black- 
smith's trade  in  the  land  of  Israel.  The  Philistines 
would  not  even  allow  these  parties  to  work  their  valua- 
ble mines  of  brass  and  iron,  nor  might  they  make  any 
swords  or  spears.  There  were  only  two  swords  left  in 
all  the  land.  Yea,  these  Philistines  went  on  until  they 
had  taken  all  the  grindstones  from  the  land  of  Israel,  so 
that  if  an  Israeli tish  farmer  wanted  to  sharpen  his 
plough  or  his  axe,  he  had  to  go  over  to  the  garrison  of 
the  Philistines  to  get  it  done.  There  was  only  one 
sharpening  instrument  left  in  the  land,  and  that  was  a 
file.  The  farmers  and  the  mechanics  having  nothing  to 
whet  up  the  coulter,  and  the  goad,  and  the  pickaxe,  save 
a  simple  file,  industry  was  hindered,  and  work  practically 
disgraced.  The  great  idea  of  these  Philistines  was  to 
keep  the  Israelites  disarmed.  They  might  get  iron  out 
of  the  hills  to  make  swords  of,  but  they  would  not  have 
any  blacksmiths  to  weld  this  iron.  If  they  got  the  iron 
welded,  they  would  have  no  grindstones  on  which  to 


384 


THE  BLACKSMITHS'  CAPTIVITY. 


bring  the  instruments  of  agriculture  or  the  military 
weapons  up  to  an  edge.  Oh,  you  poor,  weaponless  Israel- 
ites, reduced  to  a  file,  how  I  pity  you!  But  these  Phil- 
istines were  not  for  ever  to  keep  their  heel  on  the  neck 
of  God's  children.  Jonathan,  on  his  hands  and  knees, 
climbs  up  a  great  rock  beyond  which  were  the  Philis- 
tines; and  his  armor-bearer,  on  his  hands  and  knees, 
climbs  up  the  same  rock,  and  these  two  men,  with  their 
two  swords,  hew  to  pieces  the  Philistines,  the  Lord  throw- 
ing a  great  terror  npon  them.  So  it  was  then;  so  it  is 
now.  Two  men  of  God  on  their  knees,  mightier  than  a 
Philistine  host  on  their  feet. 

I  learn  first  from  this  subject,  how  dangerous  it  is  for 
the  Church  of  God  to  allow  its  weapons  to  stay  in  the 
hands  of  its  enemies.  These  Israelites  might  again  and 
again  have  obtained  a  supply  of  swords  and  weapons,  as 
for  instance  when  they  took  the  spoils  of  the  Ammon- 
ites; but  these  Israelites  seemed  content  to  have  no 
swords,  no  spears,  no  blacksmiths,  no  grindstones,  no 
active  iron  mines,  until  it  was  too  late  for  them  to  make 
any  resistance.  I  see  the  farmers  tugging  along  with 
their  pickaxes  and  ploughs,  and  I  say:  "Where  are  you 
going  with  those  things?"  They  say:  "Oh,  we  are  going 
over  to  the  garrison  of  the  Philistines  to  get  these  things 
sharpened."  I  say:  "You  foolish  men,  why  don't  yon 
sharpen  them  at  home?"  "Oh,"  they  say,  "the  black- 
smiths' shops  are  all  torn  down,  and  we  have  nothing 
left  us  but  a  file." 

So  it  is  in  the  Church  of  Jesus  Christ  to-day.  We  are 
too  willing  to  give  up  our  weapons  to  the  enemy.  The 
world  boasts  that  it  has  gobbled  up  the  schools,  and  the 
colleges,  and  the  arts,  and  the  sciences,  and  the  literature, 
and  the  printing  press.  Infidelity  is  making  a  mighty 
attempt  to  get  all  our  weapons  in  its  hand,  and  then  tu 


THE  BLACKSMITHS'  CAPTIVITY.  385 

keep  them.  You  know  it  is  making  this  boast  all  the 
time;  and  after  a  while,  when  the  great  battle  between 
sin  and  righteousness  has  opened,  if  we  do  not  look  out 
we  will  be  as  badly  off  as  these  Israelites,  without  any 
swordsto  fight  with,  and  without  any  sharpening  instru- 
ments. I  call  upon  the  superintendents  of  literary  in- 
stitutions to  see  to  it  that  the  men  who  go  into  the  class- 
rooms to  stand  beside  the  Leyden  jars,  and  the  electric 
batteries,  and  the  microscopes  and  telescopes,  be  children 
of  God,  not  Philistines.  The  Carlylian,  Emerson,  and 
Tyndallean  thinkers  of  this  day  are  trying  to  get  all  the 
intellectual  weapons  of  this  century  in  their  own  grasp. 
What  we  want  is  scientific  Christians  to  capture  the  sci- 
ence, and  scholastic  Christians  to  capture  the  scholar- 
ship, and  philosophic  Christians  to  capture  the  philoso- 
plry,  and  lecturing  Christians,  to  take  back  the  lecturing 
platform.  We  want  to  send  out  against  Schenkel  and 
Strauss  and  Renan,  a  Theodore  Christlieb  of  Bonn;  and 
against  the  infidel  scientists  of  the  day,  a  God-worship- 
ing Silliman  and  Hitchcock  and  Agassiz.  We  want  to 
capture  all  the  philosophical  apparatus,  and  swing  around 
the  telescopes  on  the  swivel,  until  through  them  we  can 
see  the  morning  star  of  the  Redeemer,  and  with  mineral- 
ogical  hammer  discover  the  uRock  of  ages,"  and  amid 
tile  flora  of  the  realms  find  the  "Rose  of  Sharon  and  the 
lily  of  the  valley."  We  want  a  clergy  learned  enough 
to  discourse  of  the  human  eye,  showing  it  to  be  a  micro- 
scope and  telescope  in  one  instrument,  with  eight  hun- 
dred wonderful  contrivances,  and  lids  closing  30,000  or 
40,000  times  a  day;  all  its  muscles  and  nerves  and  bones 
showing  the  infinite  skill  of  an  infinite  God,  and  then 
winding  up  with  the  peroration:  "He  that  formed  the 
eye,  shall  he  not  see?"  And  then  we  want  to  discourse 
about  the  buman  ear,  its  wonderful  integuments,  mem- 
25 


3S6 


THE  BLACKSMTHS'  CAPTIVITY. 


branes,  and  vibration,  and  its  chain  of  small  bones,  and 
its  auditory  nerve,  closing  with  the  question :  "He  that 
planted  the  ear,  shall  he  not  hear?"  And  we  want  some 
one  able  to  expound  the  first  chapter  of  Genesis,  bring- 
ing to  it  the  geology  and  the  astronomy  of  the  world, 
until,  as  Job  suggested,  "the  stones  of  the  field  shall  be 
in  league"  with  the  truth,  and  "the  stars  in  their  course 
shall  fight  against  Sisera."  Oh,  Church  of  God,  go  out 
and  recapture  these  weapons.  Let  men  of  God  go  out 
and  take  possession  of  the  platform.  Let  the  debauched 
printing-press  of  this  country  be  recaptured  for  Christ, 
and  the  reporters,  and  the  type-setters,  and  the  editors, 
and  publishers  be  made  to  swear  allegiance  to  the  Lord 
God  of  truth.  Ah,  my  friend,  that  day  must  come,  and 
if  the  great  body  of  Christian  men  have  not  the  faith, 
or  the  courage,  or  the  consecration  to  do  it,  then  let 
some  Jonathan,  on  his  busy  hands  and  on  his  praying 
knees,  climb  up  on  the  rock  of  hindrance,  and  in  the 
name  of  the  Lord  God  of  Israel  slash  to  pieces  those  lit- 
erary Philistines.  If  these  men  will  not  be  converted 
to  God,  then  they  must  be  destroyed. 

As:ain,  I  learn  from  this  subject  what  a  large  amount 
of  the  Churches  resources  is  actually  hidden,  and  buried, 
and  undeveloped.  The  Bible  intimates  that  that  was  a 
very  rich  land — this  land  of  Israel.  It  says:  uThe  stones 
are  iron,  and  out  of  the  hills  thou  shalt  dig  brass,"  and 
yet  hundreds  of  thousands  of  dollars'  worth  of  this  metal 
was  kept  under  the  hills.  Well,  that  is  the  difficulty 
with  the  Church  of  God  at  this  day.  Its  talent  is  not 
developed.  If  one-half  of  its  energy  could  be  brought 
out,  it  might  take  the  public  iniquities  of  the  day  by  the 
throat  and  make  them  bite  the  dust.  If  human  elo- 
quence were  consecrated  to  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  it 
could  in  a  few  years  persuade  this  whole  earth  to  sur- 


THE  BLACKSMITHS'  CAPTIVITY. 


387 


render  to  God.  There  is  enough  undeveloped  eneigy  in 
this  one  Church  to  bring  all  Brooklyn  to  Christ— enough 
undeveloped  Christian  energy  in  the  City  of  Brooklyn 
to  bring  all  the  United  States  to  Christ — enough  unde- 
veloped Christian  energy  in  the  United  States  to  bring 
the  whole  world  to  Christ;  but  it  is  buried  under  strata 
of  indifference  and  under  whole  mountains  of  sloth. 
Now  is  it  not  time  for  the  mining  to  begin,  and  the 
pickaxes  to  plunge,  and  for  this  buried  metal  to  be 
brought  out  and  put  into  the  furnaces,  and  be  turned 
into  howitzers  and  carbines  for  the  Lord's  host?  The 
vast  majority  of  Christians  in  this  day  are  useless.  The 
most  of  the  Lord's  battalion  belong  to  the  reserve  corps. 
The  most  of  the  crew  are  asleep  in  the  hammocks.  The 
most  of  the  metal  is  under  the  hills.  Oh,  is  it  not  time 
for  the  Church  of  God  to  rouse  up  and  understand  that 
we  want  all  the  energies,  all  the  talent,  and  all  the  wealth 
enlisted  for  Christ's  sake?  I  like  the  nickname  that  the 
English  soldiers  gave  to  Blucher,  the  Commander.  They 
called  him  u01d  Forwards."  We  have  had  enough  re- 
treats in  the  Church  of  Christ;  let  us  have  a  glorious 
advance.  And  I  say  to  you  to-night,  as  the  General  said 
when  his  troops  were  affrighted.  Rising  up  in  his  stir- 
rups, his  hair  flying  in  the  wind,  he  lifted  up  his  voice 
until  20,000  troops  heard  him,  crying  out:  "Forward, 
the  whole  line!" 

Again:  I  learn  from  this  subject,  that  we  sometimes 
do  well  to  take  advantage  of  the  world's  sharpening 
instruments.  These  Israelites  were  reduced  to  a  file, 
and  so  they  went  over  to  the  garrison  of  the  Philistines 
to  get  their  axes  and  their  goads,  and  their  ploughs 
sharpened.  The  Bible  distinctly  states  it — the  text 
which  I  read  at  the  beginning  of  the  service — that  they 
had  no  other  instruments  now  with  which  to  do  this 


388 


THE  BLACKSMITHS'  CAPTIVITY. 


work,  and  the  Israelites  did  right  when  they  went  over 
to  the  Philistines  to  use  their  grindstones.  My  friends, 
is  it  not  right  for  us  to  employ  the  world's  grindstones? 
If  there  be  art,  if  there  be  logic,  if  there  be  business 
faculty  on  the  other  side,  let  us  go  over  and  employ  it 
for  Christ's  sake.  The  fact  is,  we  fight  with  too  dull 
weapons,  and  we  work  with  too  dull  implements.  We 
hack  and  we  maul  when  we  ought  to  make  a  keen  stroke. 
Let  us  go  over  among  sharp  business  men,  and  among 
sharp  literary  men,  and  find  out  what  their  tact  is,  and  then 
transfer  it  to  the  cause  of  Christ.  If  they  have  science 
and  art  it  will  do  us  good  to  rub  against  it.  In* other 
words:  let  us  employ  the  world's  grindstones.  We  will 
listen  to  their  music,  and  we  will  watch  their  acumen, 
and  we  will  use  their  grindstones;  and  we  will  borrow 
their  philosophical  apparatus  to  make  our  experiments, 
and  we  will  borrow  their  printing-presses  to  publish  our 
Bibles,  and  we  will  borrow  their  rail-trains  to  carry  our 
Christian  literature,  and  we  will  borrow  their  ships  to 
transport  our  missionaries.  That  was  what  made  Paul 
such  a  master  in  his  day.  He  not  only  got  all  the  learn- 
ing he  could  get  of  Doctor  Gamaliel,  but  afterward, 
standing  on  ^lars  Hill,  and  in  crowded  thoroughfare, 
quoted,  their  poetry,  and  grasped  their  logic,  and  wielded 
their  eloquence,  and  employed  their  mythology,  until 
Dionysius  the  Areopagite,  learned  in  the  schools  of 
Athens  and  Heliopolis,  went  down  under  his  tremendous 
powers.  That  was  what  gave  Thomas  Chalmers  his 
power  in  his  day.  He  conquered  the  world's  astronomy 
and  compelled  it  to  ring  out  the  wisdom  and  greatness 
of  the  Lord,  until  for  the  second  time,  the  morning  stars 
sang  together  and  all  the  sons  of  God  shouted  for  joy. 
That  was  what  gave  to  Jonathan  Edwards  his  influence 
in  his  day.    He  conquered  the  world's  metaphysics  and 


THE  BLACKSMITHS'  CAPTIVITY. 


3S9 


forced  it  into  the  service  of  God,  until  not  only  the  old 
meeting-house  at  Northampton,  Massachusetts,  but  all 
Christendom  felt  thrilled  by  his  Christian  power.  Well, 
now,  my  friends,  we  all  have  tools  of  Christian  useful- 
ness. Do  not  let  them  lu?e  their  edges.  "We  want  no 
rusty  blades  in  this  fight.  We  want  no  coulter  that  can- 
not rip  up  the  glebe.  We  want  no  axe  that  cannot  fell 
the  trees.  We  want  no  goad  that  cannot  start  the  lazy 
team.  Let  us  get  the  very  best  grindstones  we  can  find, 
though  they  be  in  the  possession  of  the  Philistines, 
compelling  them  to  turn  the  crank  while  we  bear  down 
with  all  our  might  on  the  swift-revolving  wheel  until  all 
our  energies  and  faculties  shall  be  brought  up  to  a  bright, 
keen,  sharp,  glittering  edge. 

Again:  my  subject  teaches  us  on  what  a  small  allow- 
ance Philistine  iniquity  puts  a  man.  Yes;  these  Phil- 
istines shut  up  the  mines,  and  then  they  took  the  spears 
and  the  swords,  then  they  took  the  blacksmiths,  then 
they  took  the  grindstones,  and  they  took  everything  but 
a  file.  Oh,  that  is  the  way  sin  works;  it  grabs  every- 
thing. It  begins  with  robbery,  and  it  ends  with  robbery. 
It  despoils  this  faculty  and  that  faculty,  and  keeps  on 
until  the  whole  nature  is  gone.  Was  the  man  eloquent 
before,  it  generally  thickens  his  tongue.  Was  he  fine  in 
personal  appearance,  it  mars  his  visage.  Was  he  afflu- 
ent, it  sends  the  sheriff  to  sell  him  out.  Was  he  influen- 
tial, it  destroys  his  popularity.  Was  he  placid,  and  genial, 
and  loving,  it  makes  him  splenetic  and  cross;  and  so 
utterly  is  he  changed  that  you  can  see  he  is  sarcastic  and 
rasping,  and  that  the  Philistines  have  left  him  nothing 
but  a  file.  Oh,  "the  way  of  the  transgressor  is  hard." 
His  cup  is  bitter.  His  night  is  dark.  His  pangs  are 
deep.  His  end  is  terrific.  Philistine  iniquity  says  to 
that  man:  "Now,  surrender  to  me,  and  I  will  give  you 


I 


390 


THE  BLACKSMITHS'  CAPTIVITY. 


all  you  want — music  for  tlie  dance,  swift  steeds  for  the 
race,  imperial  couch  to  slumber  on,  and  you  shall  be  re- 
freshed with  the  rarest  fruits,  in  baskets  of  golden  fila- 
gree." He  lies.  The  music  turns  out  to  be  a  groan. 
The  fruits  burst  the  rind  with  rank  poison.  The  filagree 
is  made  up  of  twisted  snakes.  The  couch  is  a  grave- 
Small  allowance  of  rest;  small  allowance  of  peace;  small 
allowance  of  comfort.  Cold,  hard,  rough — nothing  but 
a  file.  So  it  was  with  Voltaire,  the  most  applauded  man 
of  his  day: 

"The  Scripture  was  his  jest-book,  whence  he  drew 
Bon  mots  to  gull  the  Christian  and  the  Jew. 
Aji  infidel  when  well,  but  what  when  sick  ? 
Oh,  then  a  text  would  touch  him  to  the  quick." 

Seized  with  hemorrhage  of  the  lungs  in  Paris,  where 
he  had  gone  to  be  crowned  in  the  theater  as  the  idol  of 
all  France,  he  sends  a  messenger  to  get  a  priest,  that  he 
may  be  reconciled  to  the  Church  before  he  dies.  A 
great  terror  falls  upon  him.  lie  makes  the  place  all 
round  about  him  so  dismal  that  the  nurse  declares  that 
she  would  not  for  all  the  wealth  of  Europe  see  another 
infidel  die.  Philistine  iniquity  had  promised  him  all  the 
world's  garlands,  but  in  the  last  hour  of  his  life,  when 
he  needed  solacing,  sent  tearing  across  his  conscience 
and  his  nerves  a  file,  a  file.  So  it  was  with  Lord  Byron, 
his  uncleanness  in  England  only  surpassed  by  his  -un- 
cleanness  in  Venice,  then  going  on  to  end  his  brilliant 
misery  at  Missolonghi,  fretting  at  his  nurse  Fletcher, 
fretting  at  himself,  fretting  at  the  world,  fretting  at  God; 
and  he  who  gave  to  the  world  "Childe  Harold,"  and 
"Sardanapalus,"  and  "The  Prisoner  of  Chillon,"  and 
"The  Siege  of  Corinth,"  reduced  to  nothing  but  a  file! 
Oh,  sin  has  great  facility  for  making  promises,  but  it 
has  just  as  great  facility  for  breaking  them.    A  Chris- 


THE  BLACKSMITHS*  CAPTIVITY. 


391 


tian  life  is  the  only  cheerful  life,  while  a  life  of  wicked 
surrender  is  remorse,  ruin,  and  death.  Its  painted  glee 
is  sepulchral  ghastiiuess.  In  the  brightest  days  of  the 
Mexican  Empire,  Montezuma  said  he  felt  gnawing  at  his 
heart  something  like  a  canker.  Sin,  like  a  monster  wild 
beast  of  the  forest,  sometimes  licks  all  over  its  victim  in 
order  that  the  victim  may  be  more  easily  swallowed;  but 
generally  sin  rasps,  and  galls,  and  tears,  and  upbraids, 
and  files.  Is  it  not  so,  Herod?  Is  it  not  so,  Ilildebrand? 
Is  it  not  so,  Robespierre?  Aye!  aye!  it  is  so;  it  is  so. 
"The  way  of  the  wicked  he  turneth  upside  down.''  His- 
tory tells  us  that  when  Rome  was  founded,  on  that  day 
there  were  twelve  vultures  flying  through  the  air;  but 
when  a  transgressor  dies,  the  sky  is  black  with  whole 
flocks  of  them.  Vultures!  When  I  see  sin  robbing  so 
many  of  my  hearers,  and  I  see  them  going  down  day  by 
day,  and  week  by  week,  I  must  give  a  plain  warning.  I 
dare  not  keep  it  back  lest  I  risk  the  salvation  of  my  own 
soul.  Rover  and  Pirate  pulled  down  the  warning  bell 
on  Inchcape  Rock,  thinking  that  he  would  have  a  chance 
to  despoil  vessels  that  were  crushed  on  the  rocks;  but 
one  night  his  own  ship  crashed  down  on  this  very  rock, 
and  he  went  down  with  all  his  cargo.  God  declares: 
"  When  I  say  to  the  wicked,  thou  shalt  surely  die,  and 
thou  givest  him  not  warning,  that  same  man  shall  die 
in  his  iniquity;  but  his  blood  will  I  require  at  thy 
hands." 

I  learn  from  this  subject,  what  a  sad  thing  it  is  when 
the  Church  of  God  loses  its  metal.  These  Philistines 
saw  that  if  they  could  only  get  all  the  metallic  weapons 
out  of  the  hands  of  the  Israelites,  all  would  be  well,  and, 
therefore,  they  took  the  swords  and  the  spears.  They 
did  not  want  them  to  have  a  single  metallic  weapon. 
When  the  metal  of  the  Israelites  was  gone,  their  strength 
was  gone.    This  is  the  trouble  with  the  Church  of  God 


392 


THE  BLACKSMITHS'  CAPTIVITY. 


to-day.  It  is  surrendering  its  courage.  It  has  not  got 
enough  metal.  How  seldom  it  is  that  you  see  a  man 
taking  his  position  in  pew,  or  in  pulpit,  or  in  a  religous 
society,  and  holding  that  position  against  all  oppression^ 
and  all  trial,  and  all  persecution,  and  all  criticism.  The 
Church  of  God  to-day  wants  more  backbone,  more  defi- 
ance, more  consecrated  bravery,  more  metal.  How  often 
you  see  a  man  start  out  in  some  good  enterprise,  and  at 
the  first  blast  of  newspaperdom  he  has  collapsed,  and  all 
his  courage  gone,  forgetful  of  the  fact  that  if  a  man  be 
right,  all  the  newspapers  of  the  earth,  with  all  their  col- 
umns pounding  away  at  him,  cannot  do  him  any  perma- 
nent damage.  It  is  only  when  a  man  is  wrong  that  he  can 
be  damaged.  Why,  God  is  going  to  vindicate  his  truth, 
and  he  is  g<>ing  to  stand  by  you,  my  friends,  in  every 
effort  }7ou  make  for  Christ's  cause  and  the  -salvation  of 
men.  I  sometimes  say  to  my  wife:  "There  is  something 
wrong;  the  newspapers  have  not  assaulted  me  for  six 
weeks!  I  have  not  done  my  duty  against  public  iniqui- 
ties, and  I  will  stir  them  up  next  Sunday."  'ihen  I  stir 
them  up,  and  all  the  following  week  the  devil  howls,  and 
howls,  showing  that  I  have  hit  him  very  hard.  Go 
forth  in  the  service  of  Christ  and  do  your  whole  duty. 
You  have  one  sphere.  I  have  another  sphere.  "The 
Lord  of  Hosts  is  with  us,  and  the  God  of  Jacob  is  our 
refuge.  Selah."  We  want  more  of  the  determination 
of  Jonathan.  I  do  not  suppose  he  was  a  very  wonderful 
man;  but  he  got  on  his  knees  and  clambered  up  the 
rock,  and  with  the  help  of  his  armor-bearer  he  hewed 
down  the  Philistines;  and  a  man  of  very  ordinary  intel- 
lectual attainments,  on  his  knees,  can  storm  anything 
for  God  and  for  the  truth.  We  want  something  of  the 
determination  of  the  general  who  went  into  the  war, 
and  as  he  entered  his  first  battle,  his  knees  knocked  to- 
gether, his  physical  course  not  quite  up  to  his  moral 


THE  blacksmiths'  captivity. 


393 


courage;  and  he  looked  down  at  his  knees,  and  said: 
uAh,  if  you  knew  where  I  was  going  to  take  you,  you 
would  shake  worse  than  that!"  There  is  only  one  ques- 
tion for  you  to  ask  and  for  me  to  ask.  What  does  God 
want  me  to  do?  Where  is  the  field?  Where  is  the 
work?  Where  is  the  anvil?  Where  is  the  prayer-meet- 
ing? Where  is  the  pulpit?  And,  finding  out  what  God 
wants  us  to  do,  go  ahead  and  do  it — all  the  energies  of 
our  body,  mind,  and  soul  enlisted  in  the  undertaking. 
Oh,  my  brethren,  we  have  but  little  time  in  which  to 
tight  for  God.  You  will  be  dead  soon.  Put  in  the 
Christian  cause  every  energy  that  God  gives  you.  'What 
thy  hand  findeth  to  do,  do  it  with  all  thy  might,  for  there 
is  neither  wisdom  nor  device  in  the  grave  whither  we 
are  all  hastening."  Here  we  are  at  the  end  of  the  eccle- 
siastical year,  our  congregation  partially  dispersed,  and 
others  to  go.  Opportunities  of  usefulness  gone  forever; 
souls  that  might  have  been  benefited  three  months  ago 
never  again  coming  under  our  Christian  influence.  Oh, 
is  it  not  high  time  that  we  awake  out  of  sleep?  Church 
of  God,  lift  up  your  head  at  the  coming  victory !  The 
Philistines  will  go  down,  and  the  Israelites  will  go  up. 
We  are  on  the  winning  side.  Hear  that — on  the  win- 
ning side.  I  think  just  now  the  King's  horses  are  being 
hooked  up  to  the  chariot,  and  when  he  does  ride  down 
the  sky  there  will  be  such  a  hosanna  among  his  friends, 
and  such  a  wailing  among  his  enemies,  as  will  make  the 
earth  tremble  and  the  heavens  sing.  I  see  now  the 
plumes  of  the  Lord's  cavalrymen  tossing  in  the  air. 
The  archangel  before  the  throne  has  .already  burnished 
his  trumpet,  and  then  he  will  put  its  golden  lips  to  his 
own,  and  he  will  blow  the  long,  loud  blast  that  will 
make  all  the  nations  free.  Clap  your  hands,  all  ye  peo- 
ple! Hark!  I  hear  the  falling  thrones,  and  the  dashing 
down  of  demolished  iniquities. 


31)4 


THE  DIET  OF  ASLLE&. 


CHAPTEE  XXXI. 

THE  DIET  OF  ASHES. 
He  feedeth  ou  ashes. — Isa.  xliv:  20. 

Here  is  a  description  of  the  idolatry  and  worldliness 
of  people  in  Isaiah's  time,  and  of  a  very  prevalent  style 
of  diet  in  our  time.  The  world  spreads  a  great  feast, 
and  invites  the  race  to  sit  at  it.  Platters  are  heaped  up. 
Chalice?  are  full.  Garlands  wreathe  the  wall.  The 
guests  sit  down  amid  outbursts  of  hilarity.  They  take 
the  fruit  and  it  turns  into  ashes.  They  uplift  the  tank- 
ards and  their  contents  prove  to  be  ashes.  They  touch 
the  garlands  and  they  scatter  into  ashes.  I  do  not  know 
any  passage  of  Scripture  which  so  apothegmatically  sets 
forth  the  unsatisfactory  nature  of  this  world  for  eye,  and 
tongue,  and  lip,  and  heart,  as  this  particular  passage, 
describing  the  votary  of  the  world,  when  it  says:  "He 
feedeth  on  ashes." 

I  shall  not  take  the  estimate  by  those  whose  life  has 
been  a  failure.  A  man  may  despise  the  world  simply 
because  he  cannot  win  it.  Having  failed,  in  his  chagrin 
he  may  decry  that  which  he  would  like  to  have  had  as 
his  bride.  I  shall,  therefore,  take  only  the  testimony  of 
those  who  have  been  magnificently  successful. 

In  the  first  place,  I  shall  ask  the  kings  of  the  earth  to 
stand  up  and  give  testimony,  telling  of  the  long  story  of 
sleepless  nights,  and  poisoned  cups,  and  threatened  in- 
vasion, and  dreaded  rebellion.  Ask  the  Georges,  ask  the 
Henrys,  ask  the  Marys,  ask  the  Louises,  ask  the  Cnther- 


THE  DIET  OF  ASHES. 


ir.es,  whether  they  found  the  throne  a  safe  seat,  and  the 
crown  a  pleasant  covering.  Ask  the  French  guillotine 
in  Madam  Tussaud's  Museum  about  the  queenly  necks 
it  has  dissevered.  Ask  the  Tower  of  London  and  its 
headsman's  block.  Ask  the  Tuilleries,  and  Henry  VIII., 
and  Cardinal  Wolsey  to  rise  out  of  the  dust  and  say 
what  they  think  of  worldly  honors.  Ghastly  with  the 
first  and  the  second  death,  they  rise  up  with  eyeless 
sockets  and  grinning  skeletons,  and  stagger  forth,  unable 
at  first  to  speak  at  all,  but  afterward  hoarsely  whisper- 
ing: "Ashes!  ashes!" 

I  call  up  also  a  group  of  commercial  adepts  to  give 
testimony;  and  here  again,  those  who  have  been  only 
moderately  successful  may  not  testify.  All  the  witnesses 
must  be  millionaires.  What  a  grand  thing  it  must  be  to 
own  a  railroad,  to  control  a  bank,  to  possess  all  the 
houses  on  one  street,  to  have  vast  investments  tumbling  in 
upon  you  day  after  day,  whether  you  work  or  not.  No; 
no.  William  B.  Astor,  a  few  days  before  his  death,  sits 
in  his  office  in  New  York,  grieving  almost  until  he  is 
sick,  because  rents  have  gone  down.  A.  T.  Stewart  finds 
his  last  days  full  of  foreboding  and  doubt.  When  a 
Christian  man  proposes  to  talk  to  him  about  the  matters 
of  the  soul,  he  cries:  "Go  away  from  me!  Go  away  from 
me;"  not  satisfied  until  the  man  has  got  outside  the 
door.  Come  up,  ye  millionaires,  from  various  cemeter- 
ies and  graveyards,  and  tell  us  now  what  you  think  of 
banks,  and  mills,  and  factories,  and  counting-houses,  and 
marble  palaces,  and  presidential  banquets.  They  stag- 
ger forth  and  lean  against  the  cold  slab  of  the  tomb, 
mouthing  with  toothless  gums  and  gesticulating  with 
fieshless  hands  and  shivering  with  the  chill  of  sepulchral 
dampness,  while  they  cry  out:  "Ashes!" 

I  must  call  up  now,  also,  a  group  of  sinful  pleasurists, 


396 


THE  DIET  OF  ASHES. 


and  here  again  I  will  not  take  the  testimony  of  those 
who  had  merely  the  ordinary  gratifications  of  life.  The 
witnesses  must  have  had  excess  of  delight.  Their  pleas- 
ures were  pyramidal.  They  bloomed  paradisaically.  If 
they  drank  wine,  it  must  be  the  best  that  was  ever  pressed 
from  the  vineyards  of  Hockheimer.  If  they  listened  to 
music,  it  must  be  the  costliest  opera,  with  a  world  re- 
nowned prima  donna.  If  they  sinned,  they  chased 
polished  uncleanness,  and  graceful  despair,  and  glittering 
damnation.  Stand  up,  Alcibiades,  and  Aaron  Burr,  and 
Lord  Byron,  and  Charles  the  second — what  think  yon 
now  of  midnight  revel,  and  sinful  carnival,  and  damask- 
curtain  abomination?  Answer!  The  color  goes  out  of 
the  cheek,  the  dregs  are  serpent-twisted  in  the  bottom  of 
the  wine-cup,  the  bright  lights  quenched  in  blackness  of 
darkness.  They  jingle  together  the  broken  glasses,  and 
rend  the  faded  silks,  and  shut  the  door  of  the  deserted 
banqueting  hall,  while  they  cry:  "Ashes!  ashes!" 

A  troop  of  infidels:  There  are  a  great  many  in  this 
day  who  try  to  feed  their  soul  on  infidelity  mixed  with 
truth.  Their  religion  is  made  up  of  ten  degrees  of 
humanitarianism,  and  ten  degrees  of  transcendentalism, 
and  ten  degrees  of  egotism  with  one  degree  of  Gospel 
truth,  and  with  that  mixture  they  make  the  poor,  miser- 
able cud  which  their  immortal  souls  chew,  while  the 
meadows  of  God's  Word  are  green  and  luxuriant  with 
well-watered  pastures.  Did  you  ever  see  a  bright  infi- 
del? Did  you  ever  meet  a  placid  skeptic?  Did  you  ever 
find  a  contented  atheist?  Not  one.  From  the  days  of 
Gibbon  and  Voltaire  down,  not  one.  They  quarrel 
about  God.  They  quarrel  about  the  Bible.  They  quar- 
rel about  each  other.  They  quarrel  with  themselves. 
They  gather  all  the  Divine  teachings,  and  under  them 
the  fires  of  their  own  wit,  and  scorn,  and  sarcasm,  and 


FIVE  POINTS  HOUSE  OF  INDUSTRY. 


THE  DIET  OF  ASHES. 


397 


then  they  dance  in  the  light  of  that  blaze,  and  they 
scratch  amid  the  rubbish  for  something  with  which  to 
help  them  in  the  days  of  trouble,  and  something  to  com- 
fort them  in  the  days  of  death,  finding  for  their  dis- 
traught and  destroyed  souls,  ashes — ashes.  Voltaire 
declared:  "Tliis globe  seems  to  me  more  like  a  collection 
of  carcasses  than  of  men.  I  wish  I  had  never  been  born." 
Hume  says:  UI  am  like  a  man  who  has  run  on  rocks  and 
quicksands,  and  yet  I  contemplate  putting  out  on  the  sea 
in  the  same  leaky  and  weather-beaten  craft."  Chester- 
field says:  "I  have  been  behind  the  scenes,  and  I. have 
noticed  the  clumsey  pulleys  and  the  dirty  ropes  by  which 
all  the  scene  is  managed,  and  I  have  seen  and  smelt  the 
tallow  candles  which  throw  the  illumination  on  the 
stage,  and  I  am  tired  and  sick."  Get  np,  then,  Francis 
Newport,  and  Hume,  and  Voltaire,  and  Tom  Paine,  and 
all  the  infidels  who  have  passed  out  of  this  world  into 
the  eternal  world — get  up  now  and  tell  what  you  think 
of  all  your  grandiloquent  derision  at  our  holy  religion. 
What  do  you  think  now  of  all  your  sarcasm  at  holy 
things?  They  come  shrieking  up  from  the  lost  world  to 
the  graveyards  where  their  bodies  were  entombed,  and 
point  down  to  the  white  dust  of  dissolution,  and  cry: 
Ashes!  ashes! 

Oh,  what  a  poor  diet  for  an  immortal  soul.  The  fact 
is,  the  soul  is  hungry.  What  is  that  unrest  that  some- 
times comes  across  you!  Why  is  it  that,  surrounded  by 
friends,  and  even  the  luxuries  of  life,  you  wish  you 
were  somewhere  else,  or  had  something  you  have  not 
yet  gained?  The  world  calls  it  ambition.  The  physi- 
cians call  it  nervousness.  Your  friends  call  it  the  fidgets. 
I  call  it  hunger — deep,  grinding,  unappeasable  hunger. 
It  starts  with  us  when  we  are  born,  and  goes  on  with  us 
until  the  Lord  God  himself  appeases  it.    It  is  seeking, 


39S 


THE  DIET  OF  ASHES. 


and  delving,  and  striving,  and  planning  to  get  something 
we  cannot  get.  Wealth  says:  "It  is  not  in  me."  Sci- 
ence says:  "It  is  not  in  me."  Worldly  applause  says. 
"It  is  not  in  me."  Sinful  indulgence  says:  "It  is  not 
in  me."  Where,  then,  is  it?  On  the  banks  of  what 
stream?  Slumbering  in  what  grotto?  Marching  in 
what  contest?  Expiring  on  what  pillow?  Tell  me,  for 
this  winged  and  immortal  spirit,  is  there  nothing  but 
ashes? 

In  communion  with  God,  and  everlasting  trust  of  him, 
is  complete  satisfaction.  Solomon  described  it  when  he 
compared  it  to  cedar  houses,  and  golden  chains,  and 
bounding  reindeer,  and  day-break,  and  imperial  conch; 
to  saffron,  to  calamus,  to  white  teeth,  and  hands  heavy 
with  gold  rings,  and  towers  of  ivory  and  ornamental  fig- 
ures; but  Christ  calls  it  bread!  O  famished,  yet  im- 
mortal soul,  why  not  come  and  get  it?  Until  our  sins 
are  pardoned,  there  is  no  rest.  We  know  not  at  what 
moment  the  hounds  may  bay  at  us.  Yv7e  are  in  a  castle, 
and  know  not  at  what  hour  it  may  be  besieged;  but 
when  the  soothing  voice  of  Christ  comes  across  our  per- 
turbation, it  is  hushed  for  ever.  A  merchant  in  Ant- 
werp loaned  Charles  Y.  a  vast  sum  of  money,  taking 
for  it  a  bond.  One  day  this  Antwerp  merchant  invited 
Charles  Y.  to  dine  with  him,  and  while  they  were  seated 
at  the  table,  in  the  presence  of  the  guests,  the  merchant 
had  a  fire  built  on  a  platter  in  the  centre  of  the  table. 
Then  he  took  the  bond  which  the  King  had  given  him 
for  the  vast  sum  of  money,  and  held  it  in  the  blaze  until 
it  was  consumed,  and  the  king  congratulated  himself, 
and  all  the  guests  congratulated  the  king.  There  was 
gone  at  last  the  final  evidence  of  his  indebtedness. 
Mortgaged  to  God,  we  owe  a  debt  we  can  never  pay, 
but  God  invites  us  to  the  Gospel  feast,  and  in  the  fires  of 


THE  DIET  OF  ASITES. 


309 


crucifixion  agony  he  puts  the  last  record  of  our  indebt- 
edness, and  it  is  consumed  forever.  It  was  so  in  the 
case  of  the  dying  thief  expiring  in  dark  despair,  with 
the  judgment  to  come  staring  him  in  the  face,  and  the 
terrors  of  hell  laying  hold  of  his  soul.  He  had  faith  in 
the  Crucified  One,  and  his  faith  won  for  him  an  immedi- 
ate entrance  into  paradise. 

Oh,  to  have  all  the  sins  of  our  past  forgiven,  and  to 
have  all  possible  security  for  the  future — is  not  that 
enough  to  make  a  man  happy?  What  makes  that  old 
Christian  so  placid?  Most  of  his  family  lie  in  the  vil- 
lage cemetery.  His  health  is  undermined.  His  cough 
will  not  let  him  sleep  at  night.  From  the  day  he  came 
to  town  and  he  was  a  clerk,  until  this  the  day  of  his  old 
age,  it  has  been  a  hard  fight  for  bread.  Yet  how  happy 
he  looks.  Why?  It  is  because  he  feels  that  the  same 
God  who  watched  him  when  he  lay  in  his  mother's  arms 
is  watching  him  in  the  time  of  old  age,  and  unto  God  he 
has  committed  all  his  dead,  expecting  after  a  while  to 
see  them  again.  He  has  no  anxiety  whether  he  go  this 
summer  or  next  summer — whether  he  be  carried  out 
through  the  snowbanks  or  through  the  daisies.  Fifty 
years  ago,  he  learned  that  all  this  world  could  give  was 
ashes,  and  he  reached  up  and  took  the  fruits  of  eternal 
life,  You  see  his  face  is  very  white  now.  The  crimson 
currents  of  life  seem  to  have  departed  from  it;  but  under 
that  extreme  whiteness  of  the  old  man's  face  is  the  flash 
of  the  day-break.  There  is  only  one  word  in  all  our 
language  that  can  describe  his  feelings,  and  that  is  the 
word  that  slipped  off  the  angel's  harp  above  Bethlehem 
— peace!  And  so  there  are  hundreds  of  souls  here  to- 
night who  have  felt  this  Almighty  comfort.  Their  repu- 
tation was  pursued;  their  health  shattered;  their  home 
was  almost  if  not  quite  broken  up;  their  fortune  went 


400 


THE  DIET  OF  ASHES. 


away  from  them.  Why  do  they  not  sit  down  and  give 
it  up?  Ah,  they  have  no  disposition  to  do  that.  They 
are  saying  while  I  speak:  "It  is  my  Father  that  mixed 
this  bitter  cup,  and  I  will  cheerfully  drink  it.  Every- 
thing will  be  explained  after  awhile.  I  shall  not  always 
be  under  the  harrow.  There  is  something  that  makes 
me  think  I  am  almost  home.  God  will  yet  wipe  away 
all  tears  from  my  eyes."  So  say  these  bereft  parents. 
So  say  these  motherless  children.  So  say  a  great  many 
in  this  house  to-night. 

Now,  am  I  not  right  in  these  circumstances,  in  trying 
to  persuade  this  entire  audience  to  give  up  ashes  and 
take  bread?  To  give  up  the  unsatisfactory  things  of  this 
world,  and  take  the  glorious  things  of  God  and  eternity? 
Why,  my  friends,  if  you  kept  this  world  as  long  as  it  lasts, 
you  would  have,  after  awhile,  to  give  it  up.  There  will  be 
a  great  fire  breaking  out  from  the  sides  of  the  hills;  there 
will  be  falling  flame,  and  ascending  flame;  in  it  the  earth 
will  be  overwhelmed.  Fires  burning  from  within,  out; 
fires  burning  from  above,  down;  this  earth  will  be  a  fur- 
nace, and  then  it  will  be  a  living  coal,  and  then  it  will  bean 
expiring  ember,  and  the  thick  clouds  of  smoke  will  lessen 
and  lessen  until  there  will  be  only  a  faint  vapor  curling 
up  from  the  ruins,  and  then  the  very  last  spark  of  the 
earth  will  go  out.  And  I  see  two  angels  meeting  each 
other  over  the  gray  pile,  and  as  one  flits  past,  he  cries, 
"Ashes!"  and  the  other,  as  he  sweeps  down  the  immen- 
sity, will  respond,  "Ashes!"  while  all  the  infinite  spaces 
will  echo  and  re-echo;  "Ashes!  ashes!  ashes!" 

Oh,  God  forbid  that  you  and  I  should  choose  such  a 
mean  portion.  My  fear  is,  not  that  you  will  not  see  the 
superiority  of  Christ  to  this  world,  but  that,  through 
some  dreadful  infatuation,  you  will  relegate  to  the  future 
that  which  God,  and  angels,  and  churches  militant  and 


THE  DIET  OF  ASHES. 


401 


triumphant  declare  that  you  ought  to  do  now.  My 
brother,  I  do  not  say  that  you  will  go  out  of v this  world 
by  the  stroke  of  a  horse's  hoof,  or  that  you  will  fall 
through  a  hatchway,  or  that  a  plank  may  slip  from  an 
insecure  scaffolding  and  dash  your  life  out,  or  that  a  bolt 
may  fall  on  you  from  an  August  thunder-storm;  but  I 
do  say  that,  in  the  vast  majority  of  cases,  your  departure 
from  the  world  will  be  wonderfully  quick;  and  I  want 
you  to  start  on  the  right  road  before  that  crisis  has 
plunged. 

A  Spaniard,  in  a  burst  of  temper,  slew  a  Moor.  Then 
the  Spaniard  leaped  over  a  high  wall  and  met  a  gardener, 
and  told  him  the  whole  story;  and  the  gardener  said:  "I 
will  make  a  pledge  of  confidence  with  you.  Eat  this 
peach  and  that  will  be  a  pledge  that  I  will  be  your  pro- 
tector to  the  last."  But,  oh,  the  sorrow  and  surprise  of 
the  gardener  when  he  found  out  that  it  was  his  own  son 
that  had  been  slain!  Then  he  came  to  the  Spaniard  and 
said  to  him:  "You  were  cruel,  you  ought  to  die,  you 
slew  my  son,  and  yet  I  took  a  pledge  with  you,  and  I 
must  keep  my  promise;  and  so  he  took  the  Spaniard  to 
the  stables  and  brought  out  the  swiftest  horse.  The 
Spaniard  sprang  upon  it  and  put  many  miles  between 
him  and  the  scene  of  crime,  and  perfect  escape  was 
effected.  ' 

We  have,  by  our  sins,  slain  the  Son  of  God.  Is  there 
any  possibility  of  our  rescue?  Oh,  yes.  God  the  Father 
says  to  us:  "You  had  no  business,  by  your  sin,  to  slay 
my  Son,  Jesus;  you  ought  to  die,  but  I  have  promised 
you  deliverance.  I  have  made  you  the  promise  of  eter- 
nal life,  and  you  shall  have  it.  Escape  now  for  thy  life.'' 
And  to-night  I  act  merely  as  the  Lord's  groom,  and  I 
bring  you  out  to  the  King's  stables,  and  I  tell  you  to  be 
quick  and  mount,  and  away.    In  this  plain  you  perish, 


402 


THE  DIET  OF  ASHES. 


but  housed  in  God  you  live.  Oh,  you  pursued  and  al- 
most overtaken  one,  put  on  more  speed.  Eternal  salva- 
tion is  the  price  of  your  velocity.  Fly!  fly!  lest  the 
black  horse  outrun  the  white  horse,  and  the  battle-axe 
shiver  the  helmet  and  crash  down  through  the  insuffi- 
cient mail.  In  this  tremendous  exigency  of  your  im- 
mortal spirit  beware,  lest  you  prefer  ashes  to  bread! 


KEEPING  BAD  COAIPANY. 


403 


CHAPTER  XXXII. 

KEEPING  BAD  COMPANY. 

A  companion  of  fools  shall  be  destroyed. — Proverbs  xiii:  20. 

On  the  nights  of  city  exploration  I  found  that  hardly 
any  young  man  came  to  places  of  dissipation  alone. 
Each  one  was  accompanied.  No  man  goes  to  ruin  alone. 
He  always  takes  some  one  else  with  him. 

"  May  it  please  the  Court,"  said  a  convicted  criminal, 
when  asked  if  he  had  anything  to  say  before  sen- 
tence of  death  was  passed  upon  him — "  may  it  please  the 
Court,  bad  company  has  been  my  ruin.  I  received  the 
blessings  of  good  parents,  and,  in  return,  promised  to 
avoid  all  evil  associations.  Had  I  kept  my  promise,  I 
should  have  been  saved  this  shame,  and  been  free  from 
the  load  of  guilt  that  hangs  round  me  like  a  vulture, 
threatening  to  drag  me  to  justice  for  crimes  yet  unre- 
vealed.  I,  who  once  moved  in  the  first  circles  of  society, 
and  have  been  the  guest  of  distinguished  public  men, 
am  lost,  and  all  through  bad  company." 

This  is  but  one  of  the  thousand  proofs  that  the  com- 
panion of  fools  shall  be  destroyed.  It  is  the  invariable 
rule.  There  is  a  well  man  in  the  wards  of  a  hospital, 
where  there  are  a  hundred  people  sick  with  ship  fever, 
and  he  will  not  be  so  apt  to  take  the  disease  as  a  good 
man  would  be  apt  to  be  smitten  with  moral  distemper, 
if  shut  up  with  iniquitous  companions. 

In  olden  times  prisoners  were  herded  together  in  the 
same  cell,  but  each  one  learned  the  vices  of  all  the  cul- 
prits, so  that,  instead  of  being  reformed  by  incarceration, 


404 


KEEPING  BAD  COMPANY. 


the  day  of  liberation  turned  them  out  upon  society  beasts5 
not  men. 

We  may,  in  our  places  of  business,  be  compelled  to 
talk  to  and  mingle  with  bad  men;  but  he  who  deliber- 
ately chooses  to  associate  himself  with  vicious  people,  is 
engaged  in  carrying  on  a  courtship  with  a  Delilah, 
whose  shears  will  clip  off  all  the  locks  of  his  strength, 
and  he  will  be  tripped  into  perdition.  Sin  is  catching, 
is  infectious,  is  epidemic.  I  will  let  you  look  over  the 
millions  of  people  now  inhabiting  the  earth,  and  I  chal- 
lenge you  to  show  me  a  good  man  who,  after  one  year, 
has  made  choice  and  consorted  with  the  wicked.  A 
thousand  dollars  reward  for  one  such  instance.  I  care 
not  how  strong  your  character  may  be.  Associate 
with  horse-thieves,  you  will  become  a  horse-thief. 
Clan  with  burglars,  and  you  will  become  a  burglar. 
Go  among  the  unclean,  and  you  will  become  un- 
clean. Not  appreciating  the  truth  of  my  text,  many 
a  young  man  has  been  destroyed.  He  wakes  up 
some  morning  in  the  great  city,  and  knows  no  one  ex- 
cept the  persons  into  whose  employ  he  has  entered. 

As  he  goes  into  the  store  all  the  clerks  mark  him, 
measure  him,  and  discuss  him.  The  upright  young  men 
of  the  store  wish  him  well,  but  perhaps  wait  for  a  formal 
introduction,  and  even  then  have  some  delicacy  about 
inviting  him  into  their  associations.  But  the  bad  young 
men  of  the  store  at  the  first  opportunity  approach  and 
offer  their  services.  They  patronize  him.  They  profess 
to  know  all  about  the  town.  They  will  take  him  any- 
where that  he  wishes  to  go — if  he  will  pay  the  expenses. 
For  if  a  good  young  man  and  a  bad  young  man  go  to 
some  place  where  they  ought  not,  the  good  young  man 
has  invariably  to  pay  the  charges.  At  the  moment  the 
ticket  is  to  be  paid  for,  or  the  champagne  settled  for,  the 


KEEPING  BAD  COMPANY. 


405 


bad  young  man  feels  around  in  his  pockets  and  says,  "  I 
have  forgotten  my  pocket-book."  In  forty-eight  hours 
after  the  yonng  man  has  entered  the  store  the  had  fellows 
of  the  establishment  slap  him  on  the  shoulder  familiarly; 
and,  at  his  stupidity  in  taking  certain  allusions,  say, 
a  My  young  friend,  you  will  have  to  be  broken  in;"  and 
they  immediately  proceed  to  break  him  in.  Young  man, 
in  the  name  of  God  I  warn  you  to  beware  how  you 
let  a  bad  man  talk  familiarly  with  you.  If  such 
an  one  slap  you  on  the  shoulder  familiarly,  turn 
round  and  give  him  a  withering  look,  until  the  wretch 
crouches  in  your  presence.  There  is  no  monstrosity  of 
wickedness  that  can  stand  unabashed  under  the  glance  of 
purity  and  honor.  God  keeps  the  lightnings  of  heaven 
in  his  own  scabbard,  and  no  human  arm  can  wield  them ; 
but  God  gives  to  every  young  man  a  lightning  that  he 
may  use,  and  that  is  the  lightning  of  an  honest  eye. 
Those  who  have  been  close  observers  of  city  life  will  not 
wonder  why  I  give  warning  to  young  men,  and  say, 
"  Beware  of  bad  company." 

First,  I  warn  you  to  shun  the  skeptic — the  young  man 
who  puts  his  fingers  in  his  vest  and  laughs  at  your  old- 
fashioned  religion,  and  turns  over  to  some  mystery  of 
the  Bible,  and  says,  "  Explain  that,  my  pious  friend; 
explain  that."  And  who  says,  "  Nobody  shall  scare  me; 
I  am  not  afraid  of  the  future;  I  used  to  believe  in  such 
things,  and  so  did  my  father  and  mother,  but  I  have  got 
over  it."  Yes,  he  has  got  over  it;  and  if  you  sit  in  his 
company  a  little  longer,  you  will  get  over  it  too.  With- 
out presenting  one  argument  against  the  Christian  relig- 
ion, such  men  will,  by  their  jeers  and  scoffs  and  carica- 
tures, destroy  your  respect  for  that  religion,  which  was 
the  strength  of  your  father  in  his  declining  years,  and 
the  pillow  of  your  old  mother  when  she  lay  a-dying. 


406 


KEEPING  BAD  COMPANY. 


Alas!  a  time  will  come  when  that  blustering  young 
infidel  will  have  to  die,  and  then  his  diamond  ring  will 
flash  no  splendor  in  the  eyes  of  Death,  as  he  stands  over 
the  couch,  waiting  for  his  soul.  Those  beautiful  locks 
will  be  uncombed  upon  the  pillow;  and  the  dying  man 
will  sa}^,  "I  cannot  die — I  cannot  die."  Death  standing 
ready  beside  the  couch,  says,  "  You  must  die;  you  have 
only  half  a  minute  to  live;  let  me  have  it  right  away 
— yoitr  soul."-  "No,"  says  the  young  infidel,  "here  are 
my  gold  rings,  and  these  pictures;  take  them  all."  "No," 
says  Death,  "  What  do  1  care  for  pictures! — your  soul." 
"  Stand  back,"  says  the  dying  infidel.  "I  will  not  stand 
back,"  says  Death,  "  for  you  have  only  ten  seconds  now 
to  live;  I  want  your  soul."  The  dying  man  says,  "Don't 
breathe  that  cold  air  into  my  face.  You  crowd  me 
too  hard.  It  is  getting  dark  in  the  room.  O  God!" 
"Hush,"  says  Death;  "you  said  there  was  no  God." 
"Pray  for  me,"  exclaims  the  expiring  infidel.  "Too  late  to 
pray,"  says  Death;  "  but  three  more  seconds  to  live,  and 
I  will  count  them  off — one — two — three."  He  has  gone! 
Where?  Where?  Carry  him  out — out,  and  bury  him 
beside  his  father  and  mother,  who  died  while  holding 
fast  the  Christian  religion.  They  died  singing;  but  the 
young  infidel  only  said,  "Don't  breathe  that  cold  air 
into  my  face.  You  crowd  me  too  hard.  It  is  getting 
dark  in  the  room." 

Again,  I  urge  you  to  shun  the  companionship  of  idlers. 
There  are  men  hanging  around  every  store,  and  office 
and  shop,  who  have  nothing  to  do,  or  act  as  if  they  had 
not.  They  are  apt  to  come  in  when  the  firm  are  away, 
and  wish  to  engage  you  in  conversation  while  you  are 
engaged  in  your  regular  employ  men!:.  Politely  suggest  to 
such  persons  that  you  have  no  time  to  give  them  during 
business  hours.    Nothing  would  please  them  so  well  as 


KEEPING  BAD  COMPANY. 


407 


to  have  you  renounce  your  occupation  and  associate  with 
them.  Much  of  the  time  they  lounge  around  the  doors 
of  engine  houses,  or  after  the  dining  hour  stand  upon 
the  steps  of  a  fashionable  hotel  or  an  elegant  restaurant, 
wishing  to  give  you  the  idea  that  that  is  the  place  where 
they  dine.  But  they  do  not  dine  there.  They  are  sink- 
ing down  lower  and  lower,  day  by  day.  Neither  by  day 
nor  by  night  have  anything  to  do  with  the  idlers.  Be- 
fore j'ou  admit  a  man  into  your  acquaintance  ask  him 
politely,  "What  do  you  do  for  a  living?"  If  he  says, 
u  Nothing;  lam  a  gentleman,"  look  out  for  him.  He 
may  have  a  very  soft  hand,  and  very  faultless  apparel, 
and  have  a  high-sounding  family  name,  but  his  touch  is 
death.  Before  you  know  it,  you  will  in  his  presence  be 
ashamed  of  your  work  dress.  Business  will  become  to 
you  drudgery,  and  after  awhile  you  will  lose  your  place, 
and  afterwards  your  respectability,  and  last  of  all  your 
soul.  Idleness  is  next  door  to  villainy.  Thieves,  gam- 
blers, burglars,  shop-lifters,  and  assassins  are  made  from 
the  class  who  have  nothing  to  do.  When  the  police  go 
to  hunt  up  and  arrest  a  culprit  they  seldom  go  to  look 
in  at  the  busy  carriage  factory,  or  behind  the  counter 
where  diligent  clerks  are  employed,  but  they  go  among 
the  groups  of  idlers.  The  play  is  going  on  at  the 
theater,  when  suddenly  there  is  a  scufHein  the  top  gallery. 
What  is  it?  A  policeman  has  come  in,  and,  leaning  over, 
has  tapped  on  the  shoulder  of  a  young  man,  saying,  "  I 
want  you,  sir."  He  has  not  worked  during  the  day,  but 
somehow  has  raked  together  a  shilling  or  two  to  get  into 
the  top  gallery.  lie  is  an  idler.  The  man  on  his  right 
hand  is  an  idler,  and  the  man  on  his  left  hand  is  an  idler. 

During  the  past  few  years  there  has  been  a  great  deal 
of  dullness  in  business.  Young  men  have  complained 
that  they  have  little  to  do.    If  they  have  nothing  else 


408 


KEEPING  BAD  COMPANY. 


to  do  they  can  read  and  improve  their  minds  and  heart* 
These  times  are  not  always  to  continue.  Business  k> 
waking  up,  and  the  superior  knowledge  that  in  this  in- 
terregnum of  work  you  may  obtain  will  be  worth  fifty 
thousand  dollars  of  capital.  The  large  fortunes  of  the 
next  twenty  years  are  having  their  foundations  laid  this 
winter  by  the  young  men  who  are  giving  themselves  to 
self-improvement.  I  went  into  a  store  in  New  York 
and  saw  five  men,  all  Christians,  sitting  round,  saying  that 
they  had  nothing  to  do.  It  is  an  outrage  for  a  Christian 
man  to  have  nothing  to  do.  Let  him  go  out  and  visit  the 
poor,  or  distribute  tracts,  or  go  and  read  the  Bible  to  the 
sick,  or  take  out  his  New  Testament  and  be  making  his 
eternal  fortune.  Let  him  go  into  the  back  office  and 
pray. 

Shrink  back  from  idleness  in  yourself  and  in  others,  if 
you  would  maintain  a  right  position.  Good  old  Ashbel 
Green,  at  more  than  eighty  years  of  age,  was  found  busy 
writing,  and  some  young  man  said  to  him:  "Why  do 
you  keep  busy?  It  is  time  for  you  to  rest?"  He  an- 
swered: "I  keep  busy  to  keep  out  of  mischief."  No 
man  is  strong  enough  to  be  idle. 

Are  you  fond  of  pictures?  If  so  I  will  show  you  one 
of  the  works  of  an  old  master.  Here  it  is:  "I  wenjb  by 
the  field  of  the  slothful,  and  by  the  vineyard  of  the  man 
void  of  understanding;  and  lo!  it  was  all  grown  over  with 
thorns,  and  nettles  had  covered  the  face  thereof,  and  the 
stone  wall  was  broken  down.  Then  I  saw  and  considered 
well.  I  looked  upon  it  and  received  instruction.  Yet  a 
little  sleep,  a  little  slumber,  a  little  folding  of  the  hands  to 
sleep.  So  shall  thy  poverty  come  as  one  that  traveleth 
and  thy  want  as  an  armed  man."  I  don't  know  of 
another  sentence  in  the  Bible  more  explosive  than  that. 
It  first  hisses  softly,  like  the  fuse  of  a  cannon,  and  at 


KEEPING  BAD  COMPANY. 


409 


last  bursts  like  a  fifty-four  pounder.  The  old  proverb 
was  right:  "The  devil  tempts  most  men,  but  idlers 
tempt  the  devil." 

A  young  man  came  to  a  man  of  ninety  years  of  age 
and  said  to  him:  "How  have  you  made  out  to  live  so 
long  and  be  bo  well?"  The  old  man  took  the  youngster 
to  an  orchard,  and,  pointing  to  some  large  trees  full  of 
apples,  said:  "  I  planted  these  trees  when  I  was  a 
boy,  and  do  you  wonder  that  now  I  am  permitted  to 
gather  the  fruit  of  them?''  We  gather  in  old  age  what 
we  plant  in  our  youth.  Sow  to  the  wind  and  we  reap 
the  whirlwind.  Plant  in  early  life  the  right  kind  of  a 
Christian  character,  and  you  will  eat  luscious  fruit  in 
old  age,  and  gather  these  harvest  apples  in  eternity. 

Again:  I  urge  you  to  avoid  the  perpetual  pleasure- 
seeker.  I  believe  in  recreation  and  amusement.  I  need 
it  as  much  as  I  need  bread,  and  go  to  my  gymnasium 
with  as  consciencious  a  purpose  as  I  go  to  the  Lord's 
Supper;  and  all  persons  of  sanguine  temperament  must 
have  amusement  and  recreation.  God  would  not  have 
made  us  with  the  capacity  to  laugh  if  he  had  not  intend- 
ed us  sometimes  to  indulge  it.  We  will  go  forth  from 
the  festivities  of  coming  holidays  better  prepared  to  do 
our  work.  God  hath  hung  in  sky,  and  set  in  wave,  and 
printed  on  grass  many  a  roundelay;  but  he  who  chooses 
pleasure-seeking  for  his  life  work  does  not  understand 
for  what  God  made  him.  Our  amusements  are  intended 
to  help  us  in  some  earnest  mission.  The  thunder-cloud 
hath  an  edge  exquisitely  purpled,  but  with  voice  that 
jars  the  earth,  it  declares,  k'I  go  to  water  the  green  fields." 
The  wild-flowers  under  the  fence  are  gay,  but  they 
say,  "  We  stand  here  to  make  room  for  the  wheat-field, 
and  to  refresh  the  husbandmen  in  their  nooning."  The 
stream  sparkles  and  foams,  and  frolics,  and  says,  "  I  go 


110 


KEEPING  BAD  COMFANY. 


to  baptize  the  moss.  I  lave  the  spots  on  the  trout.  I 
slake  the  thirst  of  the  bird.  I  tarn  the  wheel  of  the 
mill.  I  rock  in  my  crystal  cradle  muckshaw  and  water- 
lily."  And  so,  while  the  world  plays,  it  works.  Look 
out  for  the  man  who  always  plays  and  never  works. 

You  will  do  well  to  avoid  those  whose  regular  business 
it  is  to  play  ball,  skate  or  go  a-boating.  All  these  sports 
are  grand  in  their  places.  I  never  derived  so  mucn  ad- 
vantage from  any  ministerial  association,  as  from  a  min- 
isterial club  that  went  out  to  play  ball  every  Saturday 
afternoon  in  the  outskirts  of  Philadelphia.  These  recrea- 
tions are  grand  to  give  us  muscle  and  spirits  for  our  reg- 
ular toil.  I  believe  in  muscular  Christianity.  A  man 
is  often  not  so  near  God  with  a  weak  stomach  as  when  he 
has  a  strong  digestion.  But  shun  those  who  make  it  their 
life  occupation  to  sport.  There  are  young  men  whose 
industry  and  usefulness  have  fallen  overboard  from  the 
yacht  on  the  Hudson  or  the  Schuylkill.  There  are  men 
whose  business  fell  through  the  ice  of  the  skating  pond, 
and  has  never  since  been  hoard  of.  There  is  a  beauty  in 
the  gliding  of  a  boat,  in  the  song  of  skates,  in  the  soar- 
ing of  a  well-struck  ball,  and  I  never  see  one  fly  but  I 
involuntarily  throw  up  ray  hands  to  catch  it;  and,  so  far 
from  laying  an  injunction  upon  ball-playing,  or  any 
other  innocent  sport,  I  claim  them  all  as  belonging  of 
right  to  those  of  us  who  toil  in  the  grand  industries  of 
church  and  state. 

But  the  life  business  of  pleasure-seeking  always  makes 
in  the  end  a  criminal  or  a  sot.  George  Brummel!  was 
smiled  upon  by  all  England,  and  his  life  was  given  to 
pleasure.  He  danced  with  peeresses,  and  swung  a  round 
of  mirth,  and  wealth,  and  applause,  until  exhausted  of 
purse,  and  worn  out  of  body,  and  bankrupt  of  reputation, 
and  ruined  of  soul,  he  begged  a  biscuit  from  a  grocer, 


KEEPING  BAD  COMPANY. 


±11 


and  declared  that  he  thought  a  dog's  life  was  better  than 
a  man's. 

Such  men  will  crowd  around  your  anvil,  or  seek  to  de- 
coy you  off.  They  will  want  you  to  break  out  in  the 
midst  of  your  busy  day  to  take  a  ride  with  them  to 
Coney  Island  or  to  Central  Park.  They  will  tell  you  of 
some  people  you  must  see;  of  some  excursion  that  you 
must  take;  of  some  Sabbath  day  that  you  ought  to  dis- 
honor. They  will  tell  you  of  exquisite  wines  that  you 
must  take;  of  costly  operas  thaty  u  must  hear*  of  won- 
derful dancers  that  you  must  see;  but  before  you  accept 
their  convoy  or  their  companionship,  remember  that 
while  at  the  end  of  a  useful  life  you  may  be  able  to  look 
back  to  kindnesses  done,  to  honorable  work  accomplished, 
to  poverty  helped,  to  a  good  name  earned,  to  Christian 
influence  exerted,  to  a  Savior's  cause  advanced — these 
pleasure-seekers  on  their  death-bed  have  nothing  better 
to  review  than  a  torn  play-bill,  a  ticket  for  the  races,  an 
empty  tankard,  and  the  cast-out  rinds  of  a  carousal;  and 
as  in  the  delirium  of  their  awful  death  they  clutch  the 
goblet,  and  press  it  to  their  lips,  the  dregs  of  the  cup 
falling  upon  their  tongue,  will  begin  to  hiss  and  uncoil 
with  the  adders  of  an  eternal  poison. 

Cast  out  these  men  from  your  company.  Do  not  be 
intimate  with  them.  Always  be  polite.  There  is  no 
demand  that  you  ever  sacrifice  politeness.  A  young 
man  accosted  a  Christian  Quaker  with,  "  Old  chap,  how 
did  you  make  all  your  money?"  The  Quaker  re 
plied,  "  By  dealing  in  an  article  that  thou  mayest  deal 
in  if  thou  wilt — civility"  Always  be  courteous,  but  at 
the  same  time  firm.  Say  no  as  if  you  meant  it.  Have 
it  understood  in  store,  and  shop,  and  street  that  you  will 
not  stand  in  the  companionship  of  the  skeptic,  the  idle, 
the  pleasure-seeker. 


412 


KEEPING  BAD  COMPANY. 


Rather  than  enter  the  companionship  of  such,  accept 
the  invitation  to  a  better  feast.  The  promises  of  God 
are  the  fruits.  The  harps  of  heaven  are  the  music. 
Clusters  from  the  vineyards  of  God  have  been  pressed 
into  the  tankards.  The  sons  and  daughters  of  the  Lord 
Almighty  are  the  guests.  While,  standing  at  the  ban- 
quet, to  fill  the  cups  and  divide  the  clusters,  and  com- 
mand the  harps,  and  welcome  the  guests,  is  a  daughter 
of  God  on  whose  brow  are  the  blossoms  of  Paradise,  and 
in  whose  cheek  is  the  flush  of  celestial  summer.  Her 
name  is  Religion. 

Her  ways  are  ways  of  pleasantness, 
And  all  her  paths  are  peace.*' 


THE  PBINCESS  IN  DISGUISE, 


413 


CHAPTER  XXXIII. 

THE  PRINCESS  IN  DISGUISE. 

And  the  Lord  said  unto  Abijak:  Behold,  the  wife  of  Jeroboam 
cometh  to  ask  a  thing  of  thee  for  her  son,  for  he  is  sick :  thus  and 
thus  shalt  thou  say  unto  her:  for  it  shall  be  when  she  coineth  in, 
that  she  shall  feign  herself  to  be  another  woman.  -I.  Judges  xiv:  5. 

There  is  a  very  sick  child  in  Jeroboam's  palace  in 
Tirzah.  Medicines  have  failed.  Skill  is  exhausted. 
Abijah,  the  young  prince,  who  had  already  become  very 
popular,  must  die,  unless  some  supernatural  aid  be  af- 
forded. Death  comes  up  the  palace-stairs  and  swings 
open  the  sick-room  of  royalty,  and  stands  looking  upon 
the  wasted  form  of  the  young  prince,  holding  over  him 
a  dart  with  which  to  strike.  Wicked  Jeroboam  the 
father  has  no  right  to  expect  Divine  interference.  He 
knows  if  he  pleads  with  the  Lord's  prophet,  he  will  get 
nothing  but  condemnation,  and  so  Jeroboam  sends  his 
wife  on  the  tender  and  solemn  mission.  She  put  aside 
her  princely  apparel,  and  puts  on  the  attire  of  a  peasant- 
woman,  and  instead  of  taking  gold  and  gems,  as  she 
might  have  done,  as  a  present  to  the  prophet,  she  takes 
only  those  things  which  would  seem  to  indicate  that  she 
belonged  to  the  peasantry,  namely,  ten  loaves  of  bread 
and  cracknels,  and  a  cruse  of  honey. 

Yonder  she  goes,  hooded  and  disguised,  the  first  woman 
of  all  the  realm,  on  foot,  unattended,  carrying  a  burden  as 
though  she  had  come  out  from  one  of  the  humblest  homes 
in  Tirzah.  People  carelessly  pass  her  on  the  road,  not 
knowing  that  she  is  the  first  woman  in  all  the  realm,  the 
heiress  of  a  kingdom,  and  that  those  who  are  bespangled 


414 


THE  PRINCESS  IN  DISGUISE. 


and  robed  with  royalty  are  her  daily  associates.  Peter 
the  Great,  the  Czar  of  all  the  Hussias,  at  work  on  the  dry 
dock  at  Saardam,  with  a  sailor's  hat  and  a  shipwright's 
axe,  was  not  more  thoroughly  disguised  than  this  woman 
of  Tirzah  on  her  way  to  seek  the  healing  blessing  of  the 
prophet  in  Shiloh.  But  the  Lord's  messenger  might  not 
thus  be  deceived.  Divinely  illumined,  although  he  had 
lost  his  physical  eyesight — divinely  illumined,  he  sees 
right  through  that  woman's  cheat,  and  as  this  great  lady 
enters  his  door,  he  accosts  her  in  the  words:  "Come  in, 
thou  wife  of  Jeroboam.  "Why  feignest  thou  thyself  to 
be  another?  For  I  am  sent  to  thee  with  heavy  tidings. 
Get  thee  to  thy  house,  and  when  thy  feet  reach  the  gate 
of  the  city  the  child  shall  die."  Broken-hearted,  the 
woman  goes  back  to  her  home,  now  not  so  careful  to 
hide  her  face,  or  her  noble  gait  and  bearing.  Her  tears 
fall  on  the  dust  of  the  way,  and  her  mourning  fills  all  the 
road  from  Shiloh  to  Tirzah.  What  overwhelming  grief! 
for  she  knows  that  every  step  she  takes  is  one  heart-beat 
less  in  the  life  of  her  child.  With  wonderful  precision 
every  word  of  the  prophet  is  fulfilled.  As  the  woman 
goes  in  the  gate  of  the  city,  the  child's  life  passes  out. 
No  sooner  have  her  feet  struck  the  gate,  than  the  pulses 
of  the  son  cease.  The  cry  of  sorrow  in  the  palace  is 
joined  by  the  wailing  of  a  nation,  and  as  this  youthful 
Abijah  is  carried  out  to  his  grave,  the  land  sends  up  its 
voice  in  eulogy  of  departed  virtue,  and  the  air  is  rent 
with  the  lamentation  of  a  kingdom. 

It  is  with  no  small  or  .insi<mifiant  idea  that  this  morn- 
ing  I  ask  you  to  consider  the  thrilling  story  of  this  dis- 
guised Princess  of  Tirzah. 

In  the  first  place,  I  see  that  wickedness  is  disposed  to 
involve  others — to  make  them  its  dupes,  its  allies,  its 
scapegoats.    Jeroboam  wanted  to  hoodwink  the  prophet. 


THE  PRINCESS  IN  .  DISGUISE. 


±15 


Did  lie  go  himself?  No,  he  sent  his  wife  to  do  the  work. 
Hers  the  peril  of  detection,  the  hardship  of  the  way, 
the  execution  of  the  plot,  while  he  stayed  at  home  in  in- 
dolence, waiting  for  his  wicked  scheme  to  be  carried  out. 
Iniquity,  though  a  brag,  is  a  great  coward.  It  contrives 
sin,  but  leaves  others  to  execute  it  ;  it  lays  the  train  of 
gunpowder,  but  wants  somebody  else  to  touch  it  off; 
plans  the  mischief,  gets  somebody  else  to  work  it;  in- 
vents the  lie,  gets  somebody  else  to  circulate  it.  In 
nearly  all  the  great  plots  of  wickedness  that  have  been 
discovered,  it  has  been  found  out  that  the  instigators  of 
the  rapine,  or  the  arson,  or  the  murder,  went  free,  while 
those  who  were  suborned  and  inveigled  into  the  crime, 
clanked  the  chain  and  mounted  the  gallows.  Aaron  Burr, 
with  a  heart  unsurpassed  for  impurity  and  ambition, 
plots  for  the  usurpation  of  the  United  States  Government, 
but  gets  off  with  a  little  censure  and  a  few  threats,  while 
Blennerhasset — sweet-tempered  Blennerhasset,  learned 
Blennerhasset — whom  he  decoyed  from  his  gardens,  and 
vineyards,  and  laboratories,  on  the  banks  of  the  Ohio, 
and  hoodwinked  into  his  crime,  is  hurled  into  prison,  and 
his  great  fortune  is  scattered,  and  his  family,  brought  up 
in  luxury,  turned  out  to  die.  Benedict  Arnold,  schem- 
ing for  the  surrender  of  the  American  forts,  and  the 
destruction  of  the  American  army,  and  the  overthrow  of 
the  American  nation,  for  the  betrayal  of  our  cause  gets 
his  purse  filled  with  pounds  sterling,  and  becomes  a  brig- 
adier-general in  the  opposing  army;  while  Major  Andre, 
the  brave  and  the  brilliant,  whom  he  duped  into  the  con- 
spiracy, suffers  the  gibbet  on  the  banks  of  the  Hudson. 
Nine- tenths  of  those  who  are  arraigned,  incarcerated, 
and  condemned,  are  merely  the  satellites  of  some  adroit 
villain.  Ignominious  fraud  is  a  juggler,  which,  by 
sleight  of  hand  and  legerdemain,  makes  the  money  it 


416 


THE  PRINCESS  IN  DISGUISE. 


stole  appear  to  be  in  somebody  else's  pocket.  When 
there  is  any  great  wickedness  to  be  achieved,  when  there 
is  any  great  prophet  to  be  hoodwinked,  Jeroboam,  in- 
stead of  going  himself,  sends  his  wife  to  do  it.  Stand 
off  from  imposition  and  chicanery.  Let  not  vile  men 
employ  you  for  the  purpose  of  carrying  <  ut  their  iniqui- 
ties. 

Again,  I  learn  from  this  thrilling  story  of  the  dis- 
guised Princess  of  Tirzah,  that  royalty  sometimes  passes 
in  disguise.  The  frock,  the  hood,  the  veil  of  the  coun- 
try-woman, hid  up  the  majesty  of  this  princess  or  queen, 
and  as  she  passed  along  the  road,  no  one  suspected  who 
she  was.  Yet  she  was  just  as  much  a  princess  or  a 
queen  under  the  country-woman's  garb,  as  when  wear- 
ing the  apparel  which  flashed  through  the  palace.  So 
God  now  often  puts  upon  imperial  natures  a  crown,  yet 
we  do  not  discover  them.  They  make  no  display.  They 
wear  no  insignia  of  ro}Talty.  They  blow  no  trumpet. 
They  ride  in  no  high  places.  They  elicit  no  huzza. 
They  quote  no  foreign  language.  Eoyalty  in  mask.  A 
princess  in  disguise. 

There  are  kings  without  the  crown,  and  conquerors 
without  the  palm,  and  empresses  without  the  jewels. 
That  plain  woman  you  passed  on  the  street  to-day  may 
be  regnant  over  vast  realms  of  goodness  and  virtue — a 
dominion  wider  than  Jeroboam  saw  from  the  window  of 
his  palace.  You  look  in  upon  a  home  of  poverty  and 
destitution.  No  clothes.  No  fire.  No  bread.  Long 
story  of  suffering  written  on  the  mother's  wasted  hand, 
and  on  the  pale  cheeks  of  the  children,  and  on  the  empty 
bread-tray,  and  on  the  fireless  hearth,  and  on  the  broken 
chair.  You  would  not  give  a  dollar  for  all  the  furniture 
in  the  house.  Yet  God,  by  his  grace,  may  have  made 
that  woman  a  princess  or  a  queen.    The  overseers  of  the 


THE  PRINCESS  IN  DISGUISE. 


417 


poor  talk  over  her  case,  and  pronounce  her  a  pauper. 
They  know  not  that  God  has  burnished  a  coronet  for  her 
wrinkled  brow,  and  that  there  is  a  throne  on  which  at 
last  she  will  rest  from  earthly  weariness.  Glory  veiled! 
Affluence  hidden!  Eternal  raptures  hushed  up!  Maj- 
esty in  a  mask!    A  princess  in  disguise! 

I  will  tell  you  of  a  grander  disguise.  Hear  it.  The 
favorite  of  a  great  house  one  day  looked  out  of  his  pal- 
ace window  and  saw  men  carrying  very  heavy  burdens, 
and  some  of  them  lying  at  the  gate  full  of  sores,  and 
some  hobbling  on  crutches,  and  heard  others  bewailing 
their  woe;  and  he  said:  "I  will  put  on  poor-man's 
clothes,  and  I  will  go  down  among  those  destitute  ones, 
and  I  will  be  one  of  them,  and  I  will  see  what  I  can  do 
in  the  way  of  sympathy  and  help."  The  day  was  set. 
The  lords  of  the  land  came  to  see  him  off.  All  who 
could  sing  gathered  together  to  give  him  a  parting  eong, 
which  shook  the  hills  and  woke  up  the  shepherds.  The 
tirst  few  nights  of  his  life  he  slept  with  the  ostlers,  and 
drovers,  and  camel-drivers,  for  no  one  knew  there  was  a 
King  in  town.  He  strolled  into  the  house  where  learned 
men  sat,  and  amazed  them,  that  one  without  a  doctor's 
gown  should  know  more  about  the  law  than  the  doctors. 
He  fished  with  the  fisherman.  He  smote  with  his  own 
hammer  in  the  carpenter's  shop.  He  ate  raw  corn  out 
of  the  field.  He  fried  his  own  fish  on  the  banks  of  Gen- 
essaret.  He  slept  out  of  doors,  because  the  mountain- 
eers would  not  invite  him  into  their  cabin.  He  was 
howled  at  by  crazy  people  amid  the  tombs.  He  was 
splashed  by  the  surf  of  the  sea.  A  pilgrim  without  a 
pillow.  A  sick  man  without  any  medicament.  A 
mourner  without  any  sympathetic  bosom  into  which  he 
could  pour  his  tears.  Through  all  that  land  he  passed 
in  disguise.  Occasionallv  his  Divine  royalty  would  flash 
27 


418 


THE  PRINCESS  IN  DISGUISE. 


out,  as  in  the  Genessaret  storm;  as  in  the  red  wine  at 
the  wedding;  as  when  he  freed  the  shackled  demoniacs 
of  Gaddera;  as  when  he  swung  a  whole  school  of  fish 
into  the  net  of  the  discouraged  boatmen;  as  when  he 
throbbed  life  into  the  wasted  arm  of  the  paralytic;  but, 
still,  for  the  most  part  he  passed  in  disguise.  No  one 
saw  a  king's  jewel  in  his  sandal.  No  one  saw  a  king's 
robe  in  his  plain  coat.  They  knew  not  that  that  shelter- 
less man  owned  all  the  mansions  in  which  the  hierarchs 
of  heaven  have  their  habitation.  They  knew  not  that  he 
who  cried:  "I  thirst!"  poured  the  Euphrates  from  his 
own  chalice.  They  knew  not  that  that  hungered  man 
owned  all  the  olive  gardens  and  all  the  harvests  that 
shook  their  gold  on  the  hills  of  Palestine.  They  knew 
nut  that  the  worlds  that  lighted  up  the  Eastern  night 
were  only  the  glittering  belt  with  which  he  clasped  the 
robes  of  his  glory.  They  knew  not  that  the  ocean  lay 
in  the  palm  of  his  hand,  like  a  dew-drop  in  the  vase  of  a 
lily.  They  knew  not  that  all  the  splendors  of  the  noon- 
day were  only  the  shadow  of  his  throne.  They  knew 
not  that  suns,  and  moons,  and  stars,  and  galaxies,  march- 
ing on  for  ages  in  cohorts  of  light,  as  compared  with 
Christ's  lifetime,  were  less  than  the  sparkle  of  a  fire-fly 
on  a  summer's  night.  Omnipotence  sheathed  in  a  hu- 
man form!  Omniscience  hidden  in  a  human  eye!  Infi- 
nite love  concealed  in  a  human  heart!  Eternal  harmonies 
subdued  into  a  human  voice!  Honor  cloaked  in  shame! 
The  crown  of  universal  dominion  covered  up  by  a  bunch 
of  thorns!  The  royalty  of  heaven  passing  in  earthly 
disguise! 

Again,  I  learn  from  this  story  of  the  disguised  Prin- 
cess of  Tirzah,  how  people  jpat  ?nasks  on>  and  how  the 
Lord  tears  them  off.  Oh,  it  must  have  been  terrible 
when  the  prophet  accosted  this  woman  of  Tirzah,  and 


THE  PRINCESS  IN  DISGUISE. 


419 


said:  "Come  in,  thou  wife  of  Jeroboam.  You  cannot 
cheat  me.  I  know  who  you  are.  Come  in.  Why 
feignest  thou  to  be  the  wife  of  another?"  It  was  right 
for  her  to  seek  a  cure  for  her  sick  son;  but  it  was  not 
right  that  she  should  try  to  hoodwink  the  prophet.  It 
was  a  wicked  cheat,  and  God  tore  off  the  mask.  Some- 
times we  have  a  right  to  conceal.  There  is  no  need  of 
telling  everything.  A  man  is  a  fool  who  tells  everything 
he  knows.  There  is  a  natural  pressure  to  the  lips  which 
indicates  that  sometimes  we  ought  to  be  silent.  But  for 
all  double  dealing,  and  Jesuitry,  and  moral  shuffling^ 
and  forgery,  and  sham,  God  has  nothing  but  exposure 
and  anathema.  He  will  show  up  the  trap.  He  will  rid- 
dle the  empiricism.  He  will  assault  the  ambuscade.  He 
will  rip  up  the  cheat.  I  wish  I  could  point  out  to  you 
some  of  the  charlatans  and  tricksters  that  hoodwink,  and 
cajole,  and  cozen,  and  hoax  society.  There  is  a  vast 
multitude  of  people  over-credulous.  They  are  ready  to 
be  deceived.  They  believe  in  ghosts;  they  saw  one  of 
them  once.  They  heard  strange  and  unaccountable 
sounds  in  a  vacant  dwelling.  Passing  a  graveyard  at 
night  they  saw  something  in  white  approach  and  cross 
the  road.  In  a  neighbor's  house  they  heard  something 
that  portended  a  death  in  the  family.  They  think  it  is 
very  disastrous  to  count  the  carriages  at  a  funeral.  They 
think  it  is  a  certain  sign  of  evil  if  a  bat  flies  into  a  room 
on  a  summer  night,  or  a  salt-cellar  upsets,  or  a  cricket 
chirps  on  the  hearth,  or  if  they  see  the  moon  over  the 
wrong  shoulder.  They  would  not  think  of  beginning 
any  enterprise  on  Friday,  or  of  going  back  to  the  house 
to  get  anything  after  they  had  once  started  on  a  journey. 
Now,  6uch  people  arc  all  ready  to  be  duped.  Ignorance 
comes  along  in  the  disguise  of  medical  science,  and  these 
are  the  kind  of  people  that  this  disguised  ignorance  first 


420 


THE  PKIKCESS  IN  DISGUISE. 


entraps.  Oh,  the  tragedy  of  the  pill-box  and  the  mix- 
tures that  have  never  been  described.  It  is  high  time 
that  somebody  lifted  up  his  voice  against  the  wholesale 
butchery  of  the  race.  There  are  so  many  men  who  have 
found  the  essence  of  a  weed  which  was  plucked  in  some 
strange  place  in  the  moonshine,  that  can  cure  all  kinds  ot 
disease,  and  they  cover  up  the  board  fences  with  the  ad- 
vertisements of  the  "elixirs,"  and  the  "pain  killers,'5 
and  the  "Indian  mixtures,"  and  the  supernatural  bitters, 
and  the  nostrums  which  are  emptying  cradles,  and  filling 
insane  asylums,  and  choking  the  cemetery  with  more 
bones  than  it  can  swallow!  And  so  ears  are  deafened, 
and  eyes  are  blinded,  and  nervous  systems  are  destroyed 
by  "electrical  salves,"  and  "instantaneous  ointments," 
and  "irresistible  cataplasms,"  and"unfailing  disinfect- 
ants," and  the  wonders  of  therapeutics,  and  the  prodigies 
of  pharmacy,  and  the  marvels  of  chirurgery,  enough  to 
stun,  electrify,  poultice,  scarify  and  kill  the  whole  race 
Oh,  stand  off  from  such  impositions.  "When  ignorance 
comes  to  you  in  the  form  of  medical  science — when  it 
comes  to  you  in  that  or  in  any  other  disguise,  have  noth- 
ing to  do  with  it.  Men  prosper  by  these  things,  and 
build  up  vast  fortunes;  but  after  awhile,  if  they  have 
been  practicing  on  the  weaknesses  of  men  and  women % 
the  time  will  come  when  their  prosperity  will  cease,  and 
their  dapple  greys  will  be  halted  by  the  angel  of  the 
Lord  that  stood  before  the  ass  with  drawn  sword.  In 
the  day  of  the  Lord,  there  will  be  a  light  which  will 
shine  through  every  subterfuge,  and  thinner  than  the 
disguise  of  the  woman  of  Tirzah  will  be  every  earthly 
imposition,  and  with  a  voice  louder  than  that  with  which 
the  prophet  accosted  that  woman,  saying:  "Come  in, 
tbou  wife  of  Jeroboam,"  will  he  consign  to  midnight 
darkness,  and  doom,  and  death  all  two-faced  men,  and 


THE  PKINCESS  IN  DISGUISE. 


jockies,  and  knaves,  and  defrauders,  and  imposters,  and 
charlatans. 

Again,  I  learn,  from  this  story  of  the  disguised  prin- 
cess of  Tirzah,  how  exact,  and,  minute,  and  precise  are 
the  Providences  of  God.  The  prophet  told  that  woman 
that  the  moment  she  entered  the  gate  of  the  city,  the 
child  would  die.  She  comes  np  to  the  gate  of  the  city, 
the  child's  pulses  instantly  stop.  With  what  wonderful 
precision  that  Providence  acted.  But  it  was  no  more 
certainly  true  in  her  life  than  it  is  true  in  your  life  and 
mine.  Sickness  comes,  death  occurs,  the  nation  is  born, 
despotisms  are  overthrown  at  the  appointed  time.  God 
drives  the  universe  with  a  stiff  rein.  Events  do  not  go 
slipshod.  Things  do  not  merely  happen  so.  With  God 
there  are  no  disappointments,  no  surprises,  no  accidents. 
The  designs  of  God  are  never  caught  in  deshabille.  In 
all  the  Book  of  God's  Providence  there  is  not  one  "if." 
I  am  far  from  being  a  fatalist,  but  I  would  be  wretched 
indeed  it  I  did  not  suppose  that  God  arranges  everything 
that  pertains  to  me  and  mine;  and  as  when  that  woman 
entered  the  gate  of  Tirzah  and  her  son  died,  the  provi- 
dence was  minutely  arranged,  just  so  minutely  and  pre- 
cisely are  all  the  affairs  of  our  life  arranged.  You  may 
ask  me  a  hundred  questions  I  cannot  answer  about  this 
theory,  nor  can  any  man  answer  them;  but  I  shall  be- 
lieve until  the  day  of  my  death  that  no  pang  ever  seized 
me  but  God  decides  when  it  shall  come  and  when  it  shall 
go,  and  that  I  am  over-arched  by  unerring  care,  and  that 
though  the  heavens  may  fall,  and  the  earth  may  burn, 
and  the  judgment  may  thunder,  and  eternity  may  roll, 
if  I  am  God's  child,  not  so  much  as  a  hair  shall  fall  from 
my  head,  or  a  shadow  drop  on  my  path,  or  a  sorrow 
transfix  my  heart,  but  to  the  very  last  particular  it  shall 
be  under  my  Father's  arrangement.    He  bottles  our 


422 


THE  PRINCESS  IN  DISGUISE. 


tears.  He  catches  our  sighs.  And  to  the  orphan  he  will 
be  a  father,  and  to  the  widow  he  will  be  a  husband,  and 
to  the  outcast  he  will  be  a  home,  and  to  the  poorest 
wretch  that  to-day  crawls  out  of  the  ditch  of  his  abom- 
inations, crying  for  mercy,  he  will  be  an  all-pardoning 
Redeemer.  The  rocks  will  turn  grey  with  age,  the  for- 
ests will  be  unmoored  in  the  hurricane,  the  sun  will  shut 
its  fiery  eyelid,  the  stars  will  drop  like  blasted  figs,  the 
sea  will  heave  its  last  groan  and  lash  itself  in  expiring 
agony,  the  continents  will  drop  like  anchors  in  the  deep, 
the  world  will  wrap  itself  in  sheet  of  flame  and  leap  on 
the  funeral  pyre  of  the  judgment  day;  but  God's  love 
will  never  die.  It  shall  kindle  its  suns  after  all  other 
lights  have  gone  out.  It  will  be  a  billowing  sea  after  all 
other  oceans  have  wept  themselves  away.  It  will  warm 
itself  by  the  blaze  of  a  consuming  world.  It  will  sing 
while  the  archangel's  trumpet  peals  and  the  air  is  filled 
with  the  crash  of  breaking  sepulchers  and  the  rush  of 
the  wings  of  the  rising  deaxi.  ■ 


HELP  FOB  THOSE  OFF  TKACK. 


423 


CHAPTER  XXXIV. 

HELP  FOR  THOSE  OFF  TRACK. 
When  shall  I  awake  ?  I  will  seek  it  j~et  again. — Proverbs  xxiii :  35 

I  have  thought  in  the  midst  of  this  ^series  of  sermons 
which  I  am  preaching,  on  the  night  side  of  city  life,  it 
would  be  well  for  me  to  address  a  sermon  of  help  to  the 
multitude  of  people  who  have  got  on  the  wrong  track. 
In  the  nights  of  my  exploration  I  found  a  great  multi- 
tude of  men  who  had  gone  astray,  and  nothing  more  im- 
pressed me  than  the  fact  of  their  great  multitude.  With 
an  insight  into  human  nature  such  as  no  other  man  ever 
reached,  Solomon,  in  my  text,  sketches  the  mental  oper- 
ations of  one  who,  having  stepped  aside  from  the  path 
of  rectitude,  desires  to  return.  With  a  wish  for  some- 
thing better,  he  says:  "When  shall  I  awake?  When 
shall  I  come  out  of  this  horrid  nightmare  of  iniquity?" 
But  seized  upon  by  uneradicated  habit,  and  forced  down 
hill  by  his  passions,  he  cries  out:  "I  will  seek  it  yet 
again.    I  will  try  it  once  more." 

Our  libraries  are  adorned  with  an  elegant  literature 
addressed  to  young  men,  pointing  out  to  them  all  the 
dangers  and  perils  of  life — complete  maps  of  the  voyage, 
showing  all  the  rocks,  the  quicksands,  the  shoals.  But 
suppose  a  man  has  already  made  shipwrecks;  suppose  he 
is  already  off  the  track;  suppose  he  has  already  gone 
astray,  how  is  he  to  get  back?  That  is  a  field  compara- 
tively untouched.  I  propose  to  address  myself  this 
morning  to  such.  There  are  those  in  this  audience  who, 
with  every  passion  of  their  agonized  soul,  are  ready  to 


424 


HELP  FOJi  THOSE  OFF  TKACK. 


hear  such  a  discussion.  They  compare  themselves  with 
what  they  were  ten  years  ago,  and  cry  out  from  the  bond- 
age in  which  they  are  incarcerated.  Now,  if  there  be  any 
in  this  house,  come  with  an  earnest  purpose,  yet  feeling 
they  are  beyond  the  pale  of  Christian  sympathy,  and 
that  the  sermon  can  hardly  be  expected  to  address  them, 
then,  at  this  moment,  I  give  them  my  right  hand  and 
call  them  brother.  Look  up.  There  is  glorious  and 
triumphant  hope  for  you  yet.  I  sound  the  trumpet  of 
Gospel  deliverance.  The  church  is  ready  to  spread  a 
banquet  at  your  return,  and  the  hierarchs  of  heaven  to 
fall  into  line  of  bannered  procession  at  the  news  of  your 
emancipation.  So  far  as  God  may  help  me,  I  propose  to 
show  what  are  the  obstacles  of  your  return,  and  then 
how  you  are  to  surmount  those  obstacles. 

The  first  difficulty  in  the  way  of  your  return  is  the 
force  of  moral  gravitation.  Just  as  there  is  a  natural 
law  which  brings  down  to  the  earth  anything  you  throw 
into  the  air,  so  there  is  a  corresponding  moral  gravitation. 
In  other  words,  it  is  easier  to  go  down  than  it  is  to  go  up; 
it  is  easier  to  do  wrong  than  it  is  to  do  right.  Call  to 
mind  the  comrades  of  your  boyhood  days  —  some  of 
them  good,  some  of  them  bad.  "Which  most  affected 
you?  Call  to  mind  the  anecdotes  that  you  have  heard 
in  the  last  five  or  ten  years — some  of  them  are  pure  and 
some  of  them  impure.  "Which  the  more  easily  sticks  to 
your  memory?  During  the  years  of  your  life  you  have 
formed  certain" courses  of  conduct — some  of  them  good, 
some  of  them  bad.  To  which  style  of  habit  did  you  the 
more  easily  yield?  Ah!  my  friends,  we  have  to  take  but 
a  moment  of  self-inspection  to  find  out  that  there  is  in 
all  our  souls  a  force  of  moral  gravitation.  But  that 
gravitation  may  be  resisted.  Just  as  you  may  pick  up 
from  the  earth  something  and  hold  it  in  your  hand 


HELP  FOR  Tli OSE  OFF  TRACK. 


425 


toward  heaven,  just  so,  by  the  power  of  God's  grace,  a 
soul  fallen  may  be  lifted  toward  peace,  toward  pardon, 
toward  heaven.  Force  of  moral  gravitation  in  every  one 
of  us,  but  power  in  God's  grace  to  overcome  that  force 
of  moral  gravitation. 

The  next  thing  in  the  way  of  your  return  is  the  power 
of  evil  habit.  I  know  there  are  those  who  say  it  is  very 
easy  for  them  to  give  up  evil  habits.  I  do  not  believe 
them.  Here  is  a  man  given  to  intoxication.  He  knows 
it  is  disgracing  his  family,  destroying  his  property, 
ruining  him  body,  mind,  and  soul.  If  that  man,  being 
an  intelligent  man  and  loving  his  family,  could  easily 
give  up  that  habit,  would  he  not  do  so?  The  fact  that  he 
does  not  give  it  up  proves  it  is  hard  to  give  it  up.  It  is 
a  very  easy  thing  to  sail  down  stream,  the  tide  carrying 
you  with  great  force;  but  suppose  you  turn  the  boat  up 
stream,  is  it  so  easy  then  to  row  it?  As  long  as  we  yield 
to  the  evil  inclinations  in  our  hearts,  and  our  bad  habits 
we  are  sailing  down  stream;  but  the  moment  we  try  to 
turn,  we  put  our  boat  in  the  rapids  just  above  Niagara, 
and  try  to  row  up  stream.  Take  a  man  given  to  the 
habit  of  using  tobacco,  as  most  of  you  do!  and  let  him 
resolve  to  stop,  and  he  finds  it  very  difficult.  Seventeen 
years  ago  I  quit  that  habit,  and  I  would  as  soon  dare  to 
put  my  right  hand  in  the  fire  as  once  to  indulge  in  it. 
Why?  Because  it  was  such  a  terrific  struggle  to  get 
over  it.  Now,  let  a  man  be  advised  by  his  physician 
to  give  up  the  use  of  tobacco.  He  goes  around  not  know- 
ing what  to  do  with  himself.  He  cannot  add  up  a  line 
of  figures.  He  cannot  sleep  nights.  It  seems  as  if  the 
world  had  turned  upside  down.  He  feels  his  business  is 
going  to  ruin.  Where  he  was  kind  and  obliging,  he  is 
scolding  and  fretful.    The  composure  that  characterized 


426 


HELP  FOR  THOSE  OFF  TRACK. 


Mm  has  given  way  to  a  fretful  restlessness,  and  he  has 
become  a  complete  fidget.  What  power  is  it  that  has 
rolled  a  wave  of  woe  over  the  earth  and  shaken  a  portent 
in  the  heavens?  He  has  tried  to  stop  smoking!  After 
a  while  he  says:  "I  am  going  to  do  as  I  please.  The  doctor 
doesn't  understand  my  case.  I'm  going  back  to  my  old 
habit."  And  lie  returns.  Everything  assumes  its  usual 
composure.  His  business  seems  to  brighten.  The  world 
becomes  an  attractive  place  to  live  in.  His  children, seeing 
the  difference,  hail  the  return  of  their  father's  genial 
disposition.  What  wave  of  color  has  dashed  blue  into 
the  sky,  and  greenness  into  the  mountain  foliage,  and 
the  glow  of  sapphire  into  the  sunset?  What  enchant- 
ment has  lifted  a  world  of  beauty  and  joy  on  his  soul? 
He  has  gone  back  to  smoking.  Oh!  the  fact  is,  as  we 
all  know  in  our  own  experience,  that  habit  is  a  task- 
master; as  long  as  we  obey  it,  it  does  not  chastise  us; 
but  let  us  resist  and  we  find  we  are  to  be  lashed  with 
scorpion  whips,  and  bound  with  ship  cable,  and  thrown 
into  the  track  of  bone-breaking  Juo-crernauts.  During 
the  war  of  1812  there  was  a  ship  set  on  fire  just  above 
Niagara  Falls,  and  then,  cut  loose  from  its  moorings,  it 
came  on  down  through  the  night  and  tossed  over  the 
falls.  It  was  said  to  have  been  a  scene  brilliant  beyond 
all  description.  Well,  there  are  thousands  of  men  on 
fire  of  evil  habit,  coming  down  through  the  rapids  and 
through  the  awful  night  of  temptation  toward  the 
eternal  plunge.  Oh!  how  hard  it  is  to  arrest  them. 
God  only  can  arrest  them.  Suppose  a  man  after  five,  or 
ten,  or  twenty  years  of  evil-doing  resolves  to  do  right? 
Why,  all  the  forces  of  darkness  are  allied  against  him. 
He  cannot  sleep  nights.  He  gets  down  on  his  knees  in 
the  midnight  and  cries,  "God  help  me!"  He  bites  his 
lip.    He  grinds  his  teeth.    He  clenches  his  fist  in  a  de- 


HELP  FOR  THOSE  OEF  TRACK. 


427 


termination  to  keep  his  purpose.  He  dare  not  look  at  the 
bottles  in  the  window  of  a  wine  store.  It  is  one  long, 
bitter,  exhaustive,  hand-to-liand  light  with  enflaraed,  tan- 
talizing, and  merciless  habit.  When  he  thinks  he  is  entirely 
free  the  old  inclinations  pounce  upon  him  like  a  pack  of 
hounds  with  their  muzzles  tearing  away  at  the  flanks  of 
one  poor  reindeer.  In  Paris  there  is  a  sculptured  repre- 
sentation of  Bacchus,  the  god  of  revelry.  He  is  riding  on  a 
panther  at  full  leap.  Oh!  how  suggestive.  Let  every  one 
who  is  speeding  on  bad  ways  understand  he  is  not  riding 
a  docile  and  well-broken  steed,  but  he  is  riding  a  monster 
wild  and  bloodthirsty,  going  at  a  death  leap.  How  many 
there  are  who  resolve  on  a  better  life,  and  say,  "When 
shall  I  awake?"  but,  seized  on  by  their  old  habits,  cry,  "I 
will  try  it  once  mure;  I  will  seek  it  yet  again!"  Years 
ago,  there  were  some  Princeton  students  who  were 
skating  and  the  ice  was  very  thin,  and  some  one  warned 
the  company  back  from  the  air-hole,  and  finally  warned 
them  entirely  to  leave  the  place.  But  one  young  man 
with  bravado,  alter  all  the  rest  had  stopped,  cried  out, 
one  round  more!"  He  swept  around,  and  went  down, 
and  was  brought  out  a  corpse.  My  friends,  there  are 
thousands  and  tens  of  thousands  of  men  losing  their 
souls  in  that  way.    It  is  the  one  round  more. 

I  have  also  to  say  that  if  a  man  wants  to  return  from 
evil  practices,  society  repulses  him.  Desiring  to  reform, 
he  says:  "  Now,  I  will  shake  off  my  old  associates,  and 
I  will  find  Christian  companionship."  And  he  appears 
at  the  church  door  some  Sabbath  day,  and  the  usher 
greets  him  with  a  look  as  much  as  to  say,  "  Why,  you 
here?  You  are  the  last  man  I  ever  expected  to  see  at 
church!  Come,  take  this  seat  right  down  by  the  door!" 
Instead  of  saying,  4,Good  morning ;  I  am  glad  you  are 
here.    Come;  I  will  give  you  a  first-rate  seat,  right  up 


433 


HELP  FOR  THOSE  OFF  TRACK. 


by  tt&a  pulpit."  Well,  the  prodigal,  not  yet  discouraged, 
enters  a  prayer  meeting,  and  some  Christian  man,  with 
more  zeal  than  common  sense,  says:  "Glad  to  see  you; 
the  dying  thief  was  saved,  and  I  suppose  there  is  mercy 
for  you!"  The  young  man,  disgusted,  chilled,  throws 
himself  back  on  his  dignity,  resolved  he  never  will  enter 
the  house  of  God  again.  Perhaps  not  quite  fully  dis- 
couraged about  reformation,  he  sides  up  by  some  highly 
respectable  man  he  used  to  know,  going  down  the  street, 
and  immediately  the  respectable  man  has  an  errand  down 
some  other  street!  Well,  the  prodigal  wishing  to  return, 
takes  some  member  of  a  Christian  as  ociation  by  the 
hand,  or  tries  to.  The  Christian  young  man  looks  at 
him,  looks  at  the  faded  apparel  and  the  marks  of  dissi- 
pation, and  instead  of  giving  him  a  warm  grip  of  the 
hand,  offers  him  the  tip  end  of  the  long  fingers  of  the 
left  hand,  which  is  equal  to  striking  a  man  in  the  face. 
Oh!  how  few  Christian  people  understand  how  much 
force  and  gospel  there  is  in  a  good,  honest  hand-shaking. 
Sometimes,  when  you  have  felt  the  need  of  encourage- 
ment, and  some  Christian  man  has  taken  you  heartily 
by  the  hand,  have  you  not  felt  thrilling  through  every 
fiber  of  your  body,  mind  and  soul  an  encouragement 
that  was  just  what  you  needed?  You  do  not  know  any- 
thing at  all  about  this  unless  you  know  when  a  man 
tries  to  return  from  evil  courses  of  conduct  he  runs 
against  repulsions  innumerable.  We  say  of  some  man? 
he  lives  a  block  or  two  from  the  church,  or  half  a  mile 
from  the  church.  There  are  people  in  Brooklyn  and 
>Tew  York  who  live  a  thousand  miles  from  church. 
Vast  deserts  of  indifference  between  them  and  the  house 
of  God.  The  fact  is,  we  must  keep  our  respectability, 
though  thousands  and  tens  of  thousands  perish.  Christ 
sat  with  publicans  and  sinners.    But  if  there  came  to  the 


HELP  FOE  THOSE  OFF  TRACK. 


429 


house  of  God  a  man  with  marks  of  dissipation  upon  him, 
people  almost  threw  up  their  hands  in  horror,  as  much 
as  to  say,  "  Isn't  it  shocking?"  How  these  dainty,  fas- 
tidious Christians  in  all  our  churches  are  going  to  get 
into  heaven,  I  don't  know,  unless  they  have  an  especial 
train  of  cars,  cushioned  and  upholstered,  each  one  a  car 
to  himself!  They  cannot  go  with  the  great  herd  of  pub 
licans  and  sinners.  Oh!  ye  who  curl  your  lip  of  scorn 
at  the  fallen,  I  tell  you  plainly,  it'  you  had  been  sur- 
rounded by  the  same  influences, instead  of  sitting  to-day 
amid  the  cultured,  and  the  refined  and  the  Christian, 
you  would  have  been  a  crouching  wretch  in  stable  or 
ditch,  covered  with  filth  and  abomination.  It  is  not  be- 
cause you  are  naturally  any  better,  but  because  the 
mercy  of  God  has  protected  you.  Who  are  you  that, 
brought  up  in  Christian  circles  and  watched  by 
Christian  parentage,  you  should  be  so  hard  on  the 
fallen? 

I  think  men  also  are  often  hindered  from  return  by  the 
fact  that  churches  are  too  anxious  about  their  mem- 
bership and  too  anxious  about  their  denomination, 
and  they  rush  out  when  they  see  a  man  about  to 
give  up  his  sin  and  return  to  God,  and  ask  him  how  he 
is  going  to  be  baptized,  whether  by  sprinkling  or  im- 
mersion, and  what  kind  of  church  he  is  going  to  join. 
Oh!  my  friends,  it  is  a  poor  time  to  talk  about  Presbyte- 
rian catechisms,  and  Episcopal  liturgies,  and  Methodist 
love  feasts  and  baptistries  to  a  man  that  is  coining  out 
of  the  darkness  of  sin  into  the  glorious  light  of  the  gos- 
«pel.  Why,  it  reminds  me  of  a  man  drowning  in  the  sea, 
and  a  life-boat  puts  out  for  him,  and  the  man  in  the  boat 
says  to  the  man  out  of  the  boat,  M  Now,  if  I  get  .you 
ashore,  are  yon  going  to  live  on  my  street?"  First  get 
him  ashore,  and  then  talk  about  the  non-essentials  of 


430 


HELP  FOR  THOSE  OFF  TRACK. 


religion.  Who  cares  what  church  lie  joins,  if  lie  only 
joins  Christ  and  starts  for  heaven?  Oh!  you  ought  to 
have,  ray  brother,  an  illumined  face  and  a  hearty  grip  for 
every  one  that  tries  to  turn  from  his  evil  way.  Take 
hold  of  the  same  book  with  him  though  his  dissipations 
shake  the  book,  re m ember ing  that  he  that  converteth  a 
sinner  from  the  error  of  his  ways  shall  save  a  soul  from 
death  and  hide  a  multitude  of  sins. 

Now,  I  have  shown  you  these  obstacles  because  I  want 
you  to  understand  I  know  all  the  difficulties  in  the  way; 
but  I  am  now  to  tell  you  how  Hannibal  may  scale  the 
Alps,  and  how  the  shackles  may  be  unriveted,  and  how 
the  paths  of  virtue  foisaken  may  be  regained.  First  of  all, 
my  brother,  throw  yourself  on  God.  Go  to  him  frankly, 
and  earnestly,  and  tell  him  these  habits  you  have,  and  ask 
him  if  there  is  any  help  in  all  the  resources  of  omnipotent 
love,  to  give  it  to  you.  Do  not  go  with  a  long  rigma- 
role people  call  prayer,  made  up  of  "ohs,"  and  "aha," 
and  "forever  and  forever,  amens!"  Go  to  God  and  cry 
for  help!  help!  help!  and  if  you  cannot  cry  for  help,  just 
look  and  live.  I  remember,  in  the  late  war,  I  was  at 
Antietam,  and  I  went  into  the  hospitals  after  the  battle 
and  I  said  to  a  man,  "  Where  are  you  hurt?"  He  made 
no  answer,  but  held  up  his  arm,  swollen  and  splintered. 
I  saw  where  he  was  hurt.  The  simple  fact  is,  when  a 
man  has  a  wounded  soul,  all  he  has  to  do  is  to  hold  it  up 
before  a  sympathetic  Lord  and  get  it  healed.  Itdoes  not 
take  any  long  prayer.  Just  hold  up  the  wound.  Oh,  it 
is  no  small  thing  when  a  man  is  nervous,  and  weak  and 
exhausted,  coming  from  his  evil  ways,  to  feel  that  God 
puts  two  omnipotent  arms  around  about  him,  and  says: 
"  Young  man,  I  will  stand  by  you.  The  mountains  may 
depart,  and  the  hills  be  removed,  but  I  will  never  fail 
you."    And  then  as  the  soul  thinks  the  news  is  too  good 


HELP  FOR  THOSE  OFF  TRACK. 


431 


to  be  true,  and  cannot  believe  it,  and  looks  up  in  God's 
race,  God  lifts  his  right  hand  and  takes  an  oath,  an 
affidavit,  saving:  "  As  I  live  saith  the  Lord  God,  I  have 
no  pleasure  in  the  death  of  him  that  dieth."  Blessed  be 
(x«m1  for  such  a  gospel  as  this.  "  Cut  the  slices  thin," 
said  the  wife  to  the  husband,  "or  there  will  not  be 
enough  to  go  all  around  for  the  children;  cut  the  slices 
thin."  Blessed  be  God  there  is  a  full  loaf  for  every  one 
that  wants  it.  Bread  enough  and  to  spare.  No  thin 
slices  at  the  Lord's  table.  I  remember  when  the 
Master  Street  Hospital,  in  Philadelphia,  was  opened 
during  the  war,  a  telegram  came  saying,  "There  will  be 
three  hundred  wounded  men  to-night;  be  ready  to  take 
care  of  them;"  and  from  my  church  there  went  in  some 
twenty  or  thirty  men  and  women  to  look  after  these  poor 
wounded  fellows.  As  they  came,  some  from  one  part  of 
the  land,  some  from  another,  no  one  asked  whether  this 
man  was  from  Oregon,  or  from  Massachusetts,  or  from 
Minnesota,  or  from  Xew  York.  There  was  a  wounded 
soldier,  and  the  only  question  was  how  to  take  off  the 
rags  the  most  gently,  and  put  on  the  bandage,  and 
administer  the  cordiai.  And  when  a  soul  comes  to  God, 
He  does  not  ask  where  you  came  from,  or  what  your 
ancestry  was.  Healing  for  all  your  wounds.  Pardon 
for  all  your  guilt.    Comfort  for  all  your  troubles. 

Then,  also,  I  counsel  you,  if  you  want  to  get  back,  to 
quit  all  your  bad  associations.  One  unholy  intimacy 
will  fill  your  soul  with  moral  distemper.  In  all  the 
ages  of  the  church  there  has  not  been  an  instance  where 
a  man  kept  one  evil  associate  and  was  reformed.  Among 
the  twelve  hundred  thousand  of  the  race,  not  one  in- 
stance. Go  home  to-day,  open  your  desk,  take  out  letter 
paper,  stamp  an  envelope,  and  then  write  a  letter  some- 
thing like  this: 


432 


HELP  FOii  THOSE  OFF  TKACK. 


"  My  Old  Companions:  I  start  this  day  for  heaven. 
Until  I  am  persuaded  you  will  join  me  in  this,  farewell." 

Then  sign  your  name,  and  send  the  letter  \vith  the 
first  post.  Give  up  your  bad  companions  or  give  up 
heaven.  It  is  not  ten  bad  companions  that  destroy  a 
man,  nor  five  bad  companions,  nor  three  bad  compan- 
ions, nor  two  bad  companions,  but  one.  What  chance  is 
there  for  that  young  man  I  saw  along  the  street,  four  or 
five  young  men  with  him,  halting  in  front  of  a  grogshop, 
urging  him  to  go  in,  he  resisting,  violently  resisting, 
until  after  a  while  they  forced  him  to  go  in!  It  was  m 
summer  night  and  the  door  was  left  open,  and  I  saw  the 
process.  They  held  him  fast,  and  they  put  the  cup  to 
his  lips,  and  they  forced  down  the  strong  drink  What 
chance  is  therefor  such  a  young  man? 

I  counsel  you  also,  seek  Christian  advice.  Every 
Christian  man  is  bound  to  help  you.  If  you  find  no  other 
human  ear  willing  to  listen  to  your  story  of  struggle, 
come  to  meand  I  will  by  every  sympathy  of  my  heart,  and 
every  prayer,  and  every  toil  of  my  hand,  stand  beside 
you  in  the  struggle  for  reformation;  and  as  I  hope  to 
have  my  own  sins  forgiven  and  hope  to  be  acquitted  at 
the  judgment  seat  of  Christ,  I  will  not  betray  you.  First 
of  all,  seek  God,  then  seek  Christian  counsel.  Gather 
up  all  the  energies  of  body,  mind,  and  soul,  and,  appeal- 
ing to  God  for  success,  declare  this  day  everlasting  war 
against  all  drinking  habits,  all  gaming  practices,  all 
houses  of  sin.  Half-and-half  work  will  amount  to  noth- 
ing; it  must  be  a  Waterloo.  Shrink  back  now  and  you 
are  lost.  Push  on,  and  you  are  saved.  A  Spartan  gen- 
eral fell  at  the  very  moment  of  victory,  but  he  dipped 
his  finger  in  his  own  blood  and  wrote  on  a  rock  near 
which  he  was  dying,  "  Sparta  has  conquered."  Though 
your  struggle  to  get  rid  of  sin  may  seem  to  be' almost 


HELP  FOR  THOSE  OFF  TRACK.  433 

a  death  struggle,  you  can  dip  your  finder  in  your  own 
blood  and  write  on  the  Rock  of  Ages,  ''Victory  through 
our  Lord  Jesus  Christ."  Oh!  what  glorious  news  it 
would  be  for  some  of  these  young  men  to  send  home  to 
their  parents  in  the  country  these  holidays  which  are 
coming.  They  go  to  the  postoffice  every  day  or  two  to  see 
whether  there  are  any  letters  from  you.  How  anxious 
they  are  to  hear!  You  might  send  them  for  a  holiday 
present  this  season,  a  book  from  one  of  our  best  publish- 
ing houses,  or  a  complete  wardrohe  from  the  importer's 
palace — it  would  not  please  them  half  so  much  as  the 
news  you  might  send  home  to-morrow  that  you  had 
given  your  heart  to  God.  I  know  how  it  is  in  the  coun- 
try. The  night  comes  on.  The  cattle  stand  under  the 
rack  through  which  burst  the  trusses  of  hay.  The 
horses  just  having  frisked  up  from  the  meadow  at 
the  nightfall,  stand  knee-deep  in  the  bright  straw  that 
invites  them  to  lie  down  and  rest.  Tbe  perch  of  the 
hovel  is  full  of  fowl,  their  feet  warm  under  the  feathers. 
In  tbe  old  farmhouse  at  night  no  candle  is  lighted,  for 
the  flames  clap  their  hands  about  the  great  backlog,  and 
shake  the  shadow  of  the  group  up  and  down  the  wall. 
Father  and  mother  sit  there  for  half  an  hour,  saying 
nothing.  I  wonder  what  they  are  thinking  of.  After 
a  while  the  father  breaks  the  silence  and  says,  "  Well,  I 
wonder  where  our  boy  is  in  town  to-night;"  and  the 
mother  answers,  "  In  no  bad  place,  I  warrant  you;  we 
always  could  trust  him  when  he  was  home,  and  since  he 
has  been  away  there  have  been  so  many  prayers  offered 
for  him  we  can  trust  him  still."  Then  at  eight  o'clock — 
for  they  retire  early  in  the  country — at  eight  o'clock  they 
kneel  down  and  commend  you  to  that  God  who  watches 
in  country  and  in  town,  on  the  land  and  on  the  sea.  Some 
one  said  to  a  Grecian  general,  "  What  was  the  proudest 
28 


HELP  FOR  THOSE  OFF  TRACK. 


moment  in  your  life?"  He  thought  a  moment,  and  said, 
uThe  proudest  moment  in  my  life  was  when  I  sent  word 
home  to  my  parents  that  I  had  gained  the  victory."  And 
the  proudest  and  most  brilliant  moment  in  your  life  will 
be  the  moment  when  you  can  send  words  to  your  parents 
in  the  country  that  you  have  conquered  your  evil  habits 
by  the  grace  of  God,  and  become  eternal  victor.  Oh! 
despise  not  parental  anxiety.  The  time  will  come  when 
you  will  have  neither  father  nor  mother,  and  you  will  go 
around  the  place  where  they  used  to  watch  yon  and  find 
them  gone  from  the  house,  and  gone  from  the  field  and 
gone  from  the  neighborhood.  Cry  as  loud  for  forgive- 
ness as  you  may  over  the  mound  in  the  churchyard,  they 
will  not  answer.  Dead!  Dead!  And  then  you  will  take 
out  the  white  lock  of  hair  that  was  cut  from  your 
mother's  brow  just  before  they  buried  her,  and  you  will 
take  the  cane  with  which  your  father  used  to  walk,  and 
you  will  think  and  think,  and  wish  that  you  had  done  just 
as  they  wanted  you  to,  and  would  give  the  world  if  you  had 
never  thrust  a  pang  through  their  dear  old  hearts.  God 
pity  the  young  man  who  has  brought  disgrace  on  his 
father's  name.  God  pity  the  young  man  who  has 
broken  his  mother's  heart.  Better  if  he  had  never  been 
born, — better  if  in  the  first  hour  of  his  life,  instead  of 
being  laid  against  the  warm  bosom  of  maternal  tender- 
ness, he  had  been  coffined  and  sepulchred.  There  is  no 
balm  powerful  enough  to  heal  the  heart  of  one  who  has 
brought  parents  to  a  sorrowful  grave,  and  who  wanders 
about  through  the  dismal  cemetery,  rending  the  hair  and 
wringing  the  hands,  and  crying,  "Mother!  mother!" 
Oh!  that  to-day,  by  all  the  memories  of  the  past,  and 
by  all  the  hopes  of  the  future,  you  would  yield  your 
heart  to  God.  May  your  father's  God  and  your  mother's 
God  bo  your  God  forever. 


THB5  REPROACHFUL  OUTCRY. 


435 


CHAPTER  XXXV. 

THE  REPROACHFUL  OUTCRY. 
No  man  cared  for  my  soul. — Psalm  cxlii :  4. 

David,  the  rubicund  lad,  had  become  the  battle-  worn 
warrior.  Three  thousand  armed  men  in  pursuit  of  him, 
he  had  hidden  in  the  cave  of  Engedi,  near  the  coast  of 
the  Dead  Sea.  Utterly  fagged  out  with  the  pursuit,  as 
you  have  often  been  worn  out  with  th«  trials  of  life, 
he  sat  down  and  cried  out:  "Xo  man  cared  for  my  soul!" 

If  you  should  fall  through  a  hatchway,  or  slip  from  a 
scaffolding,  or  drop  through  a  skylight,  there  would  be 
hundreds  of  people  who  would  come  around  and  pick  up 
your  body  and  carry  it  to  the  home  or  to  the  hospital. 
I  saw  a  great  crowd  of  people  in  the  street  and  I  asked: 
"What  is  the  matter?"  and  I  found  out  that  a  poor  la- 
boring man  had  fallen  under  sunstroke,  and  all  our  eyes 
were  filled  with  tears  at  the  thought  of  his  distracted 
wife  and  his  desolated  home.  We  are  all  sympathetic 
with  physical  disaster,  but  how  little  sympathy  for  spir- 
itual woes.  There  are  men  in  this  house  who  have  come 
to  mid-life  who  have  never  yet  been  once  personally  ac- 
costed about  their  eternal  welfare.  A  great  sermon 
dropped  into  an  audience  of  hundreds  of  thousands  will 
do  its  work;  but  if  this  world  is  ever  to  be  brought  to 
God  it  will  be  through  little  sermons  preached  to  private 
Christians  to  an  audience  of  one.  The  sister's  letter 
postmarked  at  the  village — the  word  uttered  in  your 
hearing,  half  of  smiles  and  half  of  tears — the  religious 
postscript  to  a  business  letter — the  card  left  at  the  door 


436 


THE  REPROACHFUL  OUTCRY. 


when  you  had  some  kind  of  trouble — the  anxious  look  ol 
some  one  across  a  church  aisle  while  an  earnest  sermon 
was  being  preached,  swung  you  into  the  kingdom  of 
God.  But  there  are  hundreds  of  people  in  this  house 
who  will  take  the  word  that  David  used  in  the  past  tense, 
and  employ  it  in  the  present  tense  and  cry  out:  "No 
man  cares  for  my  soul !"  You  feel  as  you  go  out  day  by 
day  in  the  tng  and  jostle  of  life  that  it  is  every  man  for 
himself.  Yon  can  endure  the  pressure  of  commercial 
affairs,  and  would  consider  it  almost  impertinent  for  any 
one  to  ask  you  whether  you  are  making  or  losing  money. 
But  there  have  been  times  when  you  would  have  drawn 
your  cheque  for  thousands  of  dollars  if  some  one  would 
only  help  your  soul  out  of  its  perplexities.  There  are 
questions  about  your  higher  destiny  that  ache,  and  dis- 
tract, and  agonize  you  at  times.  Let  no  one  suppose 
that  because  you  are  busy  all  day  with  hardware,  or  dry- 
goods,  or  groceries,  or  grain,  that  your  thoughts  are  no 
longer  than  your  yard-stick,  and  stop  at  the  brass-headed 
nails  of  the  store  counter.  Where  you  speak  once  about 
religious  things  you  think  five  thousand  times.  They 
call  you  a  worldling.  You  arc  not  a  worldling.  Of 
course  you  are  industrious  and  keep  busy,  but  you  have 
had  your  eyes  opened  to  the  realities  of  the  next  world. 
You  are  not  a  fool.  You  know  better  than  any  one  can 
tell  you  that  a  few  years  at  most  will  wind  up  your 
earthly  engagements,  and  that  you  will  take  residence  in 
a  distant  sphere  where  all  your  business  adroitness  would 
be  a  superfluity.  You  sometimes  think  till  your  head 
aches  about  great  religious  subjects.  I  see  you  going 
down  the  street  with  your  eyes  fixed  on  the  pavement, 
oblivious  of  the  passing  multitudes,  your  thoughts  gone 
on  eternal  expedition.  You  wonder  if  the  Bible  is  true, 
how  much  of  it  is  literal  and  how  much  is  figurative,  if 


THE  KEPKOACHFUL  OUTCRY. 


437 


Christ  be  God,  if  there  is  anything  like  retribution,  if 
you  are  immortal,  if  a  resurrection  will  ever  take  place, 
what  the  occupation  of  your  departed  kindred  is,  what  you 
will  be  ten  thousand  years  from  now.  "With  a  cultured 
placidity  of  countenance  you  are  on  fire  with  agitations 
of  soul.  Oh,  this  solitary  anxiety  of  your  whole  lifetime. 
You  have  sold  goods  to  or  bought  them  from  Christian 
people  for  ten  years,  and  they  have  never  whispered  one 
word  of  spiritual  counsel.  You  have  passed  up  and 
down  the  aisles  of  churches  with  men  who  knew  that  you 
had  no  hope  for  heaven,  and  talked  about  the  weather, 
and  about  your  physical  health,  and  about  everything 
but  that  concerning  which  you  most  wanted  to  hear 
them  speak,  namely,  your  everlasting  spirit.  Time3 
without  number  you  have  felt  in  your  heart,  if  you  have 
not  uttered  it  with  your  lips:  "No  man  cares  for  my 
soul!,' 

There  have  been  times  when  you  were  especially  plia- 
ble on  the  great  subject  of  religion.  It  was  so,  for 
instance,  after  you  had  lost  your  property.  You  had  a 
great  many  letters  blowing  you  up  for  being  unfortunate. 
You  showed  that  there  had  been  a  concatenation  of  cir- 
cumstances and  that  your  insolvency  was  no  fault  of 
yours.  Your  creditors  talked  to  you  as  though  they 
would  have  a  hundred  cents  on  a  dollar  or  your  life. 
Protest  after  protest  tumbled  in  on  your  desk.  Men 
who  used  to  take  your  hand  with  both  of  theirs  and 
shake  it  violently,  now  pass  you  on  the  street  with  an 
almost  imperceptible  nod.  After  six  or  eight  hours  of 
scalding  business  anxiety  you  go  home,  and  you  shut  the 
door,  and  throw  yourself  on  the  sofa,  and  you  feel  in  c, 
state  of  despair.  You  wish  that  some  one  would  come 
in  and  break  up  the  gloom.  Everything  seems  to  bo 
against  you.    The  bank  against  you.    Your  creditors 


43S 


THE  REPROACHFUL  OUTCRY. 


against  you.  Your  friends,  suddenly  become  critical, 
against  you.  All  the  past  against  you.  All  the  future 
against  you.  You  make  reproachful  outcry:  "No  man 
cares  for  my  soul!" 

There  was  another  occasion  when  all  the  doors  of  your 
heart  swung  open  for  sacred  influences.  A  bright 
light  went  out  in  your  household.  Within  three  or  four 
days,  there  were  compressed  sickness,  death,  obsequies. 
You  were  so  lonely  that  a  hundred  people  coming  into 
the  house,  did  not  break  up  the  solitariness.  You  were 
almost  killed  with  the  domestic  calamity.  A  few  for- 
mal, perfunctory  words  of  consolation  were  uttered  on 
the  stairs  before  you  went  to  the  grave;  but  you  wanted 
some  one  to  come  and  talk  over  the  whole  matter,  and 
recite  the  alleviations,  and  decipher  the  lessons  of  the 
dark  bereavement.  No  one  came.  Many  a  time  you 
could  not  sleep  until  two  or  three  o'clock  in  the  morning, 
and  then  your  sleep  was  a  troubled  dream,  in  which  was 
re-enacted  all  the  scene  of  sickness,  and  parting,  and 
dissolution.  Oh!  what  days  and  nights  they  were!  No 
man  seemed  to  care  for  your  soul. 

There  was  another  occasion  when  youi  heart  was  very 
susceptible.  There  was  a  great  awakening.  There  were 
hundreds  of  people  who  pressed  into  the  kingdom  of 
God;  some  of  them  acquaintances,  some  business  asso- 
ciates, yes,  perhaps  some  members  of  your  own  family 
were  baptized  by  sprinkling  or  immersion.  Christian 
people  thought  of  you  and  they  called  at  your  store,  but 
you  were  out  on  business!  They  stopped  at  your  house, 
you  had  gone  around  to  spend  the  evening.  They  sent 
a  kindly  message  to  you;  somehow,  by  accident,  you  did 
not  get  it.  The  life  boat  of  the  Gospel  swept  through 
the  surf  and  everybody  seemed  to  get  in  but  you.  Every- 
thing seemed  to  escape  you.    One  touch  of  personal 


THE  liEPIiOAGHFUL  OUTOKY. 


439 


sympathy  would  have  pushed  you  into  the  kingdom  of 
God.  When  on  communion-day,  your  friends  went  in 
and  your  sons  and  daughters  went  into  the  church,  you 
buried  your  face  in  your  handkerchief  and  sobbed:  "Why 
am  I  left  ouU  Everybody  seems  to  get  saved  but  me. 
No  man  cares  for  my  soul." 

Hearken  to  a  revelation  I  have  to  make.  It  is  a  start- 
ling statement.  It  will  so  surprise  you  that  I  must 
prove  it  as  I  go  on.  Instead  of  this  total  indifference 
all  about  you,  in  regard  to  your  soul,  I  have,  to-night,  to 
tell  you  that  heaven,  earth,  and  hell  are  after  your  im- 
mortal spirit.  Earth  to  cheat  it.  Hell  to  destroy  it. 
Heaven  to  redeem  it.  Although  you  may  be  a  stranger 
to  the  thousands  of  Christians  in  this  house,  their  faces 
would  glow  and  their  hearts  would  bound  if  they  saw 
you  make  one  step  heavenward.  So  intricate  and  far- 
reaching  is  this  web  of  sympathy  that  I  could  by  one 
word  rouse  a  great  many  prayers  in  your  behalf.  No 
one  care  for  your  soul!  Why  one  signal  of  distress  on 
your  part,  would  thrill  this  audience  with  holy  excite- 
ment. If  a  boat  in  New  York  harbor  should  get  in 
distress,  from  the  men-of-war,  and  from  the  sloops,  and 
from  the  steamers,  the  flying  paddles  would  pull  to  the 
rescue.  And  if  to-night,  you  would  lift  one  signal  of 
distress,  all  these  voyagers  of  eternity  would  bear  down 
,  k  ward  you  and  bring  you  relief.  But  no.  You  are  like 
a  ship  on  tire  at  sea.  They  keep  the  hatches  down,  and 
the  captain  is  frenzied,  and  he  gives  orders  that  no  one 
hail  the  passing  ships.  He  says:  "I  shall  either  land 
this  vessel  in  Hamburg,  or  on  the  bottom  of  the  ocean, 
and  I  don't  care  which."  Yonder  is  a  ship  of  the  White 
Star  Line  passing.  Yonder  one  of  the  National  Line. 
Yonder  one  of  the  Cunard  Line.  Yonder  one  of  the 
Inman  Line.    -But  they  know  not  there  is  any  calamity 


-HO 


THE  REPBOA.CHFUL  OUTCKY. 


happening  on  that  one  vessel.  Oh!  if  the  captain  would 
only  put  his  trumpet  to  his  lip,  and  cry  out:  "Lower 
your  boats!  Bear  down  this  way!  We  are  burning 
up!  Fire!  Fire!"  No.  No.  No  signal  is  given.  If 
that  vessel  perishes,  having  hailed  no  one,  whose  fault 
will  it  be?  Will  it  be  the  fault  of  the  ship  that  hid  its 
calamity,  or  will  it  be  the  fault  of  the  vessels  that,  pass- 
ing on  the  high  seas,  would  have  been  glad  to  furnish 
relief,  if  it  had  been  only  asked?  In  other  words,  my 
brother,  if  you  miss  heaven,  it  will  be  'your  own  fault. 
I  could  to-night  bring  a  thousand  souls  who  would  kneel 
beside  you  and  not  get  up  until  your  sins  are  pardoned 
and  your  sorrows  assuaged. 

No  one  care  for  your  soul!  Why  in  all  the  ages  there 
have  been  men  whose  entire  business  was  soul-saving. 
In  this  work,  Munson  went  down  under  the  knives  of  the 
cannibals  whom  he  had  come  to  save,  and  liobert  Mc- 
Cheyne  preached  himself  to  death  by  thirty  years  of  age, 
and  John  Bunyan  was  thrown  into  a  dungeon  in  Bed- 
fordshire, and  Jehudi  Ashman  endured  all  the  malarias 
of  the  African  jungle,  and  there  are  hundreds  and  thou- 
sands of  Christian  men  and  women  now  who  are  pray- 
ing, toiling,  preaching,  living,  dying  to  save  souls. 

No  one  care  for  your  soul!  Have  you  heard  how 
Christ  feels  about  it?  I  know  it  was  only  live  or  six  miles 
from  Bethlehem  to  Calvary — the  birth-place  and  the> 
death-place  of  Christ — but  who  can  tell  how  many  miles 
it  was  from  the  throne  to  the  manger?  How  many 
miles  down,  how  many  miles  back  again?  The  place  of 
his  departure  was  the  focus  of  all  splendor  and  pomp. 
All  the  thrones  facing  his  throne.  His  name  the  chorus 
in  every  song,  and  the  inscription  on  every  banner.  His 
landing-place  a  cattle-pen,  malodorous  with  unwashed 
brutes,  and  dogs  growling  in  and  out  of  the  stable.  Born 


THE  REPROACHFUL  OUTCRY. 


441 


of  a  weary  mother  who  had  journeyed  eighty  miles  in 
severe  unhealth  that  she  might  find  the  right  place  for 
the  Lord's  nativity— born,  not  as  other  princes,  under 
the  flash  of  a  chandelier,  but  under  a  lantern  swung  by 
a  rope  to  the  roof  of  the  barn.  In  that  place  Christ 
started  to  save  you.  Your  name,  your  face,  your  time? 
your  eternity,  in  Christ's  mind.  Sometimes  traveling 
on  mule's  back  to  escape  old  Herod's  massacre,  some- 
times attempting  nervous  sleep  on  the  chilly  hill-side, 
sometimes  earning  his  breakfast  by  the  carpentry  of  a 
plough.  In  Quarantania  the  stones  of  the  field,  by  their 
shape  and  color,  looking  like  the  loaves  of  bread,  tantal- 
izing his  hunger.  Yet  all  the  time  keeping  on  after  you. 
With  drenched  coat  treading  the  surf  of  Genessaret. 
Ilowied  after  by  a  blood-thirsty  mob.  Denounced  as  a 
drunkard.  Mourning  over  a  doomed  city,  while  others 
shouted  at  the  site  of  the  shimmering  towers.  All  the 
time  coming  on  and  coming  on  to  save  vou.  Indicted 

o  ft 

as  being  a  traitor  against  government,  perjured  witnesses 
swearing  their  souls  away  to  ensure  his  butchery. 
Flogged,  spit  on,  slapped  in  the  face,  and  then  hoisted 
on  rough  lumber,  in  the  sight  of  earth,  and  heaven,  and 
hell,  to  purchase  your  eternal  emancipation.  From  the 
first  infant  step  to  the  last  step  of  manhood  on  the  sharp 
spike  of  Calvary,  a  journey  for  you.  Oh,  how  he  cared 
tor  your  soul!  By  dolorous  arithmetic  add  up  the  stable, 
the  wintry  tempest,  the  midnight  dampness,  the  absti- 
nence of  forty  days  from  food,  the  brutal  Sanhedrim,  the 
heights  of  Golgotha,  across  which  all  the  hatreds  of  earth, 
and  all  the  furies  of  hell,  charged  with  their  bayonets, 
and  then  dare  to  say  again  that  no  one  cares  for  your  soul. 

A  young  man  might  as  well  go  off  from  home  and 
give  his  father  and  mother  no  intimation  as  to  where  he 
has  gone,  and,  crossing  the  seas,  sitting  down  in  some 


442 


THE  REPROACHFUL  OUTCRY. 


foreign  country,  cold,  sick,  and  hungry,  and  lonely,  say- 
ing: "My  father  and  mother  don't  care  anything  about 
me."  Do  not  care  anything  about  him!  Why,  that 
father's  hair  has  turned  grey  since  his  son  went  off.  He 
has  written  to  all  the  consuls  in  the  foreign  ports,  asking 
ahout  that  son.  Does  not  the  mother  care  anything 
about  him?  He  has  broken  her  heart.  She  has  never 
smiled  since  he  went  away.  All  day  long,  and  almost 
all  night,  she  keeps  asking:  "Where  is  he?  Where  can 
he  be?"  lie  is  the  first  thought  in  her  prayer  and  the 
last  thought  in  her  prayer — the  first  thought  in  the 
morning  and  the  last  at  night.  She  says:  "O  God,  bring 
back  my  boy;  I  must  see  him  again  before  I  die.  Where 
is  he!  I  must  see  him  before  I  die!"  Oh,  do  not  his 
father  and  mother  care  for  him?  You  go  away  from 
your  Heavenly  Father,  and  you  think  he  does  not  care 
for  you  because  you  will  not  even  read  the  letters  by 
which  he  invites  you  to  come  back,  while  all  heaven  is 
waiting,  and  waiting,  and  waiting  for  you  to  return.  A 
young  man  said  to  his  father:  "I  am  going  off;  I  will 
write  to  you  at  the  end  of  seven  years  and  tell  you  where 
I  am."  Nine  years  have  passed  along  since  that  son 
went  away,  and,  for  the  last  two  years,  the  father  has 
been  going  to  the  depot  in  the  village,  on  the  arrival  of 
every  train,  and  when  he  hears  the  whistle  in  the  dis- 
tance he  is  thrilled  with  excitement,  and  he  waits  until 
all  the  passengers  have  come  out,  and  then  he  waits 
until  the  train  has  gone  clear  out  of  sight  again,  and 
then  he  goes  home,  hastening  back  to  the  next  train; 
and  he  will  be  at  every  train  until  that  son  comes 
back,  unless  the  son  waits  until  the  father  be  dead.  Bur, 
oh,  the  greater  patience  of  God.  He  has  been  waiting 
for  you,  not  seven  years,  not  nine  years,  but,  for  some  of 
you,  twenty  years,  thirty  years,  forty  years,  fifty  years — 


THE  REPROACHFUL  OUTCRY. 


443 


waiting,  calling — waiting,  calling,  until  nothing  but  om- 
nipotent patience  could  have  endured  it.  O  my  brother, 
do  not  take  the  sentiment  of  my  text  as  your  sentiment. 
We  do  care  for  your  soul.  I  care  for  it.  For  that  rea- 
son I  give  up  all  other  themes  and  take  this  call  of  grace. 
1  would  like  to-night  to  marshal  a  great  host  of  invita- 
tions all  around  about  you,  and  then  command  them  to 
close  up  until  it  would  be  impossible  for  your  soul  to 
escape  from  the  gracious  environment.  I  have  tried 
something  of  this  religion.  I  know  something  of  its 
peace,  something  of  its  good  cheer,  something  of  its 
glorious  anticipations,  and  I  commend  it  to  you.  Oh, 
come  in  by  Christ,  the  good  old  way.  Crowd  all  this 
path  to  heaven  to-night  with  immortals.  Why  are  you 
down  Jhere  in  the  wilderness?  Do  you  like  husks  better 
than  bread?  Do  you  like  troughs  better  than  chalices? 
Do  you  like  fiends  better  than  angels?  Do  you  like  hell 
better  than  heaven?  Oh,  come  in  by  Christ,  the  living 
way. 

A  few  Sabbath  nights  ago,  a  young  man  appeared  in 
this  room  at  the  end  of  the  platform,  and  he  said  to  me: 
UI  have  just  come  off  the  sea."  I  said:  "When  did  you 
arrive?"  Said  he:  "I  came  into  port  this  afternoon.  I 
was  in  a  great  '  blow'  off  Cape  Hatteras  this  last  week, 
and  I  thought  that  I  might  as  well  go  to  heaven  as  to 
hell.  I  thought  the  ship  would  sink;  but,  sir,  I  uever 
very  seriously  thought  about  my  soul  until  to-night." 
I  said  to  him:  "Do  you  feel  that  Christ  is  able  and  wil- 
ling to  save  you?"  "Oh,  yes,"  he  replied,  "I  do." 
"Well,"  I  said;  "Now  are  you  willing  to  come  and  be 
saved  by  him?"  "I  am,"  he  said.  "Well,  will  you  now, 
in  the  prayer  we  are  about  to  offer,  give  yourself  to  God 
for  time  and  eternity  ?"  "I  will,"  he  said.  Then  we  knelt 
in  prayer,  and  after  we  had  got  through  praying,  he  told 


THE  REPROACHFUL  OUTCRY. 


me  that  the  great  transformation  had  taken  place.  1 
could  not  doubt  it.  He  is  on  the  sea  to-night.  I  do  not 
know  what  other  port  he  may  gain  or  lose,  but  I  think 
he  will  gain  the  harbor  of  heaven. 

"Star  of  peace,  beam  o'er  the  billow, 
Bless  the  soul  that  sighs  for  Thee ; 
Bless  the  sailor's  lonely  pillow, 
Far,  far  at  sea." 

It  was  sudden  conversion  with  him  that  night.  Oh 
that  it  might  be  sudden  conversion  with  you  to-night. 
God  can  save  you  in  one  moment  as  well  as  he  can  in  a 
century.  There  are  sudden  deaths,  sudden  calamities, 
sudden  losses.  "Why  not  sudden  deliverances?  God's 
Spirit  is  infinite  in  speed.  He  comes  here  with  omnipo- 
tent power,  and  he  is  ready  here  and  now,  instantaneously 
and  for  ever,  to  save  your  soul.  I  believe  that  a  multi- 
tude of  you  will  to-night  come  to  God.  I  feel  you  are 
coming,  and  you  will  bring  your  families  and  your  friends 
with  you.  They  have  heard  in  heaven  already  of  the 
step  you  are  about  to  take.  The  news  has  been  cried 
along  the  golden  streets,  and  has  rung  out  from  the 
towers:  UA  soul  saved!  A  soul  saved!"  But  there  is 
some  one  here  to-night  who  will  reject  this  Gospel.  He 
will  stay  out  of  the  kingdom  of  God  himself.  He  will 
keep  his  family  and  his  friends  out.  It  is  a  dreadful 
thing  for  a  man  just  to  plant  himself  in  the  way  of  life, 
then  keep  back  his  children,  keep  back  his  companion 
in  life,  keep  back  his  business  partners — refuse  to  go 
into  heaven  himself,  and  refuse  to  let  others  go  in.  To- 
night I  have  set  before  you  life  and  death,  and  there  are 
some  here  who  have  chosen  death,  and  this  sermon,  and 
the  call  of  God's  Holy  Spirit,  so  far  as  their  rescue  ie 
concerned,  is  a  failure. 


THE  REPROACHFUL  OUTCRY.  445 

A  young  man,  at  the  close  of  a  religious  service,  was 
asked  to  decide  the  matter  of  his  soul's  salvation.  He 
said:  *<I  will  not  do  it  to-night."  Well,  the  Christian 
man  kept  talking  with  him,  and  he  said:  "I  insist  that 
to-night,  you  either  take  God  or  reject  Him."  "Well," 
said  the  young  man,  "if  you  put  it  in  that  way,  I  will 
reject  him.  There  now,  the  matter's  settled."  On  his 
way  home  on  horseback,  he  knew  not  that  a  tree  had 
fallen  aslant  the  road,  and  he  was  going  at  full  speed, 
and  he  struck  the  obstacle  and  dropped  lifeless.  That 
night  his  Christian  mother  heard  the  riderless  horse 
plunging  about  the  barn,  and  mistrusting  something 
terrible  was  the  matter,  she  went  out  and  came  to  the 
place  where  her  son  lay,  and  she  cried  out:  "O  Henry, 
dead  and  not  a  Christian.  O  my  son!  my  son!  dead 
and  not  a  Christian.  O  Hen  it,  Henry,  dead  and  not 
a  Christian."    God  keep  us  from  such  a  catastrophe! 


THE  VACANT  CHAIR. 


CHAPTER  XXXVI. 

THE  VACANT  CHAIR. 

Thou  shalt  be  missed,  because  thy  seat  will  be  empty. — I.  Sam.  xx :  18. 

Set  on  the  table  the  cutlery  and  the  chased  silver- ware 
of  the  palace,  for  King  Saul  will  give  a  state  dinner  to- 
day. A  distinguished  place  is  kept  at  the  table  for  his 
son-in-law,  a  celebrated  warrior,  David  by  name.  '  The 
guests,  jeweled  and  plumed,  come  in  and  take  their 
places.  When  people  are  invited  to  a  king's  banquet, 
they  are  very  apt  to  go.  But  before  the  covers  are  lifted 
from  the  feast,  Saul  looks  around  and  finds  a  vacant  seat 
at  the  table.  He  says  within  himself,  or  perhaps  audi- 
bly, "What  does  this  mean?  Where  is  my  son-in-law? 
Where  is  David  the  great  warrior?  I  invited  him,  I 
expected  him.  What!  a  vacant  chair  at  a  king's  ban- 
quet!" The  fact  was  that  David,  the  warrior,  had  been 
seated  for  the  last  time  at  his  father-in-law's  table.  The 
day  before  Jonathan,  had  coaxed  David  to  go  and  occupy 
that  .place  at  the  table,  saying  to  David,  in  the  words  of 
my  text,  "Thou  shalt  be  missed,  because  thy  seat  will  be 
empty."  The  prediction  was  fulfilled.  David  was  missed. 
His  seat  was  empty.  That  one  vacant  chair  spoke  louder 
than  all  the  occupied  chairs  at  the  banquet.  In  almost 
every  house  the  articles  of  furniture  take  a  living  per- 
sonality. That  picture — a  stranger  would  not  see  any- 
thing remarkable  either  in  its  design  or  execution,  but 
it  is  more  to  you  than  all  the  pictures  of  the  Louvre  and 
the  Luxembourg.  You  remember  who  bought  it,  and 
who  admired  it.    And  that  hymn-book — you  remember 


THE  VACANT  CHAIR.  447 

who  sang  out  of  it.  And  that  cradle — you  remember 
who  rocked  it.  And  that  Bible — you  remember  who 
read  out  of  it.  And  that  bed — you  remember  wjio  slept 
in  it.  And  that  room — you  remember  who  died  in  it. 
But  there  is  nothing  in  all  your  house  so  eloquent  and 
so  mighty  voiced  as  the  vacant  chair.  I  suppose  that 
before  Saul  and  his  guests  got  up  from  this  banquet 
there  was  a  great  clatter  of  wine-pitchers,  but  all  that 
racket  was  drowned  out  by  the  voice  that  came  up  from  the 
vacant  chair  at  the  table.  Millions  have  gazed  and  wept 
at  John  Quincy  Adams's  vacant  chair  in  the  House  of 
Representatives,  and  at  Mr.  Wilson's  vacant  chair  in  the 
vice-presidency,  and  at  Henry  Clay's  vacant  chair  in  the 
American  Senate,  and  at  Prince  Albert's  vacant  chair  in 
Windsor  Castle,  and  at  Thiers's  vacant  chair  in  the 
councils  of  the  French  nation;  but  all  these  chairs  are 
unimportant  to  yon  as  compared  with  the  vacant  chairs 
in  your  own  household.  Have  these  chairs  any  lessons 
for  us  to  learn?  Are  we  any  better  men  and  women  than 
when  they  first  addressed  us? 

First,  I  point  out  to  you  the  father's  vacant  chair. 
Old  men  always  like  to  sit  in  the  same  place  and  in  the 
same  chair.  They  somehow  feel  more  at  home,  and  some- 
times when  you  are  in  their  place  and  they  come  into  the 
room,  you  jump  up  suddenly  and  say,  "Here,  father,  here's 
your  chair."  The  probability  is  it  is  an  armchair,  for  he 
is  not  so  strong  as  he  once  was,  and  he  needs  a  little  up- 
holding. His  hair  is  a  little  frosty,  his  gums  a  little 
depressed,  for  in  his  early  days  there  was  not  much  den- 
tistry. Perhaps  a  cane  chair  and  old-fashioned  apparel, 
for  though  you  may  have  suggested  some  improvement, 
father  does  not  want  any  of  your  nonsense.  Grandfather 
never  had  much  admiration  for  new-fangled  notions.  I 
sat  at  the  table  of  one  of  ray  parishioners  in  a  former 


THE  VACANT  CHAIR. 


congregation;  an  aged  man  was  at  the  table,  and  his  Bon 
was  presiding,  and  the  father  somewhat  abruptly  ad- 
dressed the  son  and  said:  "My  son,  don't  now  try  to 
show  off  because  the  minister  is  here!"  Your  father 
never  liked  any  new  customs  or  manners;  lie  preferred 
the  old  way  of  doing  things,  and  he  never  looked  so 
happy  as  when,  with  his  eyes  closed,  he  sat  in  the  arm- 
chair in  the  corner.  From  wrinkled  brow  to  the  tip  of 
the  slippers,  what  placidity  I  The  wave  of  the  past  years 
of  his  life  broke  at  the  foot  of  that  chair.  Perhaps, 
sometimes,  he  was  a  little  impatient,  and  sometimes  told 
the  same  story  twice;  but  over  that  old  chair  how  many 
blessed  memories  hover!  I  hope  you  did  not  crowd  that 
old  chair,  and  that  it  did  not  get  very  much  in  the  way. 
Sometimes  the  old  man's  chair  gets  very  much  in  the 
way,  especially  if  he  has  been  so  unwise  as  to  make  over 
all  his  property  to  his  children,  with  the  understanding 
that  they  are  to  take  care  of  him.  I  have  seen  in  such 
cases  children  crowd  the  old  man's  chair  to  the  door,  and 
then  crowd  it  clear  into  the  street,  and  then  crowd  it 
into  the  poor-house,  and  keep  on  crowding  it  until  the 
old  man  fell  out  of  it  into  his  grave.  But  your  father's 
chair  was  a  sacred  place.  The  children  used  to  climb  up 
on  the  rungs  of  it  for  a  goocl-night  kiss,  and  the  longer 
he  stayed  the  better  you  liked  it.  But  that  chair  has 
been  vacant  now  for  some  time.  The  furniture  dealer 
would  not  give  you  fifty  cents  for  it,  but  it  is  a  throne  of 
influence  in  your  domestic  circle.  I  saw  in  the  French 
palace,  and  in  the  throne  room,  the  chair  that  Napoleon 
used  to  occupy.  It  was  a  beautiful  chair,  but  the  most 
significant  part  of  it  was  the  letter  "N,"  embroidered 
into  the  back  of  the  chair  in  purple  and  gold.  And  your 
father's  old  chair  sits  in  the  throne  room  of  your  heart, 
and  your  affections  have  embroidered  into  the  back  of 


THE  VACANT  CHAIR. 


449 


that  chair  in  purple  and  gold  the  letter  "F."  Have  all 
the  prayers  of  that  old  chair  been  answered?  Have  all 
the  counsels  of  that  old  chair  been  practiced?  Speak 
out!  old  arm  chair.  History  tells  us  of  an  old  man 
whose  three  sons  were  victors  in  the  Olympic  games, 
and  when  they  came  back,  these  three  sons,  with  their 
garlands  and  put  them  on  the  father's  brow,  the  old  man 
was  so  rejoiced  at  the  victories  of  his  three  children  that 
he  fell  dead  in  their  arms.  And  are  you,  O  man,  going 
to  bring  a  wreath  of  joy  and  Christian  usefulness,  and 
put  it  on  to  your  father's  brow,  or  on  the  vacant  chair, 
or  on  the  memory  of  the  one  departed?  Speak  out!  old 
arm  chair.  With  reference  to  your  father,  the  words  of 
my  text  have  been  fulfilled:  "Thou  shalt  be  missed,  be- 
cause thy  seat  will  be  empty." 

I  go  a  little  further  on  in  your  house,  and  I  find  the 
mother's  chair.  It  is  very  apt  to  be  a  rocking  chair. 
She  had  so  many  cares  and  troubles  to  soothe  that  it 
must  have  rockers.  I  remember  it  well.  It  was  an  old 
chair,  and  the  rockers  were  almost  worn  out,  for  I  was 
the  youngest,  and  the  chair  had  rocked  the  whole  family. 
It  made  a  creaking  noise  as  it  moved;  but  there  was  music 
in  the  sound.  It  was  just  high  enough  to  allow  us  ehiL 
dren  to  put  our  heads  into  her  lap.  That  was  the  bank 
where  we  deposited  all  our  hurts  and  worries.  Ah! 
what  a  chair  that  was.  It  was  different  from  the  father's 
chair;  it  was  entirely  different.  You  ask  me  how?  I 
cannot  tell;  but  we  all  felt  it  was  different.  Perhaps 
there  was  about  this  chair  more  gentleness,  more 
tenderness,  more  grief  when  we  had  done  wrong. 
When  we  were  wayward,  father  scolded,  but  mother 
cried.  It  was  a  very  wakeful  chair.  In  the  sick  days 
of  children,  other  chairs  could  not  keep  awake  ;  that 
chair  always  kept  awake — -kept  easily  awake.  That 
29 


450 


THE  VACANT  CHAIR. 


chair  knew  all  the  old  lullabies  and  all  those  wordless 
songs  which  mothers  sing  to  their  sick  children — songs 
in  which  all  pity  and  compassion  and  sympathetic  influ- 
ences are  combined.  That  old  chair  has  stopped  rock- 
ing for  a  good  many  years.  It  may  be  set  up  in  the  loft 
or  the  garret,  but  it  holds  a  queenly  power  yet.  When 
at  midnight  you  went  into  that  grog-shop  to  get  the  in- 
toxicating draught,  did  you  not  hear  a  voice  that  said: 
"My  son,  why  go  in  there?"  And  louder  than  the  bois- 
terous encore  of  the  theatre,  a  voice  saying,  "My  son, 
what  do  you  here?"  And  when  you  went  into  the  house 
of  sin,  a  voice  saying,  "What  would  your  mother  do  if 
she  knew  you  were  here?"  And  you  were  provoked 
with  yourself,  and  you  charged  yourself  with  superstition 
and  fanaticism,  and  your  head  got  hot  with  your  own 
thoughts,  and  you  went  home  and  you  went  to  bed,  and 
no  sooner  had  you  touched  the  bed  than  a  voice  said: 
"What!  a  prayerless  pillow?  Man,  what  is  the  matter?" 
This:  You  are  too  near  your  mother's  rocking  chair. 
"Oh,  pshaw!"  you  say.  "There's  nothing  in  that;  I'm 
five  hundred  miles  off  from  where  I  was  born ;  I'm  three 
thousand  miles  off  from  the  church  whose  bell  was  the 
first  music  I  ever  heard."  I  cannot  help  that:  you  are 
too  near  your  mother's  rocking  chair.  "Oh,"  you  say, 
"there  can't  be  anything  in  that;  that  chair  has  been  va- 
cant a  great  while."  I  cannot  help  that;  it  is  all  the 
mightier  for  that;  it  is  omnipotent,  that  vacant  mother's 
chair.  It  whispers;  it  speaks;  it  weeps;  it  carols;  it 
mourns;  it  prays;  it  warns;  it  thunders.  A  young 
man  went  off  and  broke  his  mother's  heart,  and  while 
he  was  away  from  home  his  mother  died,  and  the  tele- 
graph brought  the  son,  and  he  came  into  the  room  where 
she  lay  and  looked  upon  her  face,  and  he  cried  out:  "Oh, 
mother!  mother!  what  your  life  could  not  do  your  death 


THE  VACANT  CHAIR. 


451 


shall  effect.  This  moment  I  give  my  heart  to  God.'' 
And  he  kept  his  promise.  Another  victory  for  the  va- 
cant chair.  With  reference  to  your  mother,  the  words 
of  my  text  were  fulfilled:  "Thou  shalt  be  missed,  be- 
cause thy  seat  will  be  empty." 

I  go  on  a  little  further;  I  come  to  the  invalid's  chair. 
What!  How  long  have  you  been  sick?  "0!  I  have 
been  sick  ten,  twenty,  thirty  years."  Is  it  possible? 
What  a  story  of  endurance!  There  are  in  many  families 
of  my  congregation  these  invalids'  chairs.  The  occu- 
pants of  them  think  they  are  doing  no  good  in  the  world; 
but  that  invalid's  chair  is  the  mighty  pulpit  from  which 
they  have  been  preaching,  all  these  years,  trust  in  God. 
One  day  last  July,  on  an  island  just  off  from  Sandusky, 
Ohio,  I  preached,  and  there  was  a  great  throng  of  peo- 
ple there;  but  the  throng  did  not  impress  me  so  much 
as  the  spectacle  of  just  one  face-j-the  face  of  an  invalid 
who  was  wheeled  in  on  her  chair.  I  said  to  her  after- 
wards, "Madam,  how  long  have  you  been  prostrated?" 
for  she  was  lying  flat  in  the  chair.  "Oh!"  she  replied, 
"I  have  been  this  way  fifteen  years."  1  said,  "Do  you 
suffer  very  much?"  "Oh,  yes,  she  said,  "I  suffer  very 
much;  I  suffer  all  the  time;  part  of  the  time  I  was 
blind.  I  always  suffer.'*  "Well,"  I  said,  "can  you 
keep  your  courage  up?"  "Oh,  }res,"  she  said,  "I  am 
happy,  very  happy  indeed."  Her  face  showed  it.  She 
looked  the  happiest  of  anyone  on  the  ground.  Oh! 
what  a  means  of  grace  to  the  world,  these  invalid  chairs. 
On  that  field  of  human  suffering  the  grace  of  God  gets 
its  victory.  Edward  Payson  the  invalid,  and  Richard 
Baxter  the  invalid,  and  Robert  Hall  the  invalid,  and  the 
ten  thousand  of  whom  the  world  has  never  heard,  but  of 
whom  all  heaven  is  cognizant.  The  most  conspicuous 
thing  on  earth  for  God's  eye  and  the  eye  of  angels  to 


±52 


THE  VACANT  CHAIR. 


rest  on  is  not  a  throne  of  earthly  power,  but  it  is  the  in- 
valid's chair.  Oh!  these  men  and  women  who  are  al- 
ways suffering  but  never  complaining — these  victims  of 
spinal  disease  and  neuralgic  torture  and  rheumatic  excru- 
ciation will  answer  to  the  roll-call  of  the  martyrs  and  rise 
to  the  martyr's  throne,  and  will  wave  the  martyr's  palm. 
Bnt  when  one  of  these  invalid's  chairs  becomes  vacant, 
how  suggestive  it  is!  No  more  bolstering  up  of  the 
weary  head.  No  more  changing  from  side  to  side  to  get 
an  easy  position.  No  more  use  of  the  bandage  and  the 
cataplasm  and  the  prescription.  That  invalid's  chair 
may  be  folded  up,  or  taken  apart,  or  set  away,  but  it  will 
never  lose  its  queenly  power;  it  will  always  preach  of 
trust  in  God  and  cheerful  submission.  Suffering  all 
ended  now.  With  respect  to  that  invalid  the  words  of 
my  text  have  been  fulfilled:  "Thou  shalt  be  missed,  be- 
cause thy  seat  will  be  empty." 

I  pass  on,  and  I  find  one  more  vacant  chair.  It  is  a 
high  chair.  It  is  the  child's  chair.  If  that  chair  be  oc- 
cupied, I  think  it  is  the  most  potent  chair  in  all  the 
household.  All  the  chairs  wait  on  it;  all  the  chairs  are 
turned  toward  it..  It  means  more  than  David's  chair  at 
Saul's  banquet.  At  any  rate,  it  makes  more  racket. 
That  is  a  strange  house  that  can  be  dull  with  a  child  in 
it.  How  that  child  breaks  up  the  hard  worldliness  of 
the  place,  and  keeps  you  young  to  sixty,  seventy,  and 
eighty  years  of  age!  If  you  have  no  child  of  your  own, 
adopt  one;  it  will  open  heaven  to  your  soul.  It  will  pay 
its  way.  Its  crowing  in  the  morning  will  give  the  day  a 
cheerful  starting,  and  its  glee  at  night  will  give  the  day 
a  cheerful  close.  You  do  not  like  children?  Then  you 
had  better  stay  out  of  heaven,  for  there  are  ?o  many 
there  they  would  fairly  make  you  crazy!  Only  about 
five  hundred  millions  of  them!    The  old  crusty  Phari- 


THE  VACANT  CHAIK. 


453 


sees  told  the  mothers  to  keep  the  children  away  from 
Christ.  "You  bother  him,"  they  said;  "you  trouble 
the  Master."  Trouble  him!  He  has  tilled  heaven  with 
that  kind  of  trouble.  A  pioneer  in  California  says  that 
for  the  first  year  or  two  after  his  residence  in  Sierra  Ne- 
vada county  there  was  not  a  single  child  in  all  the  reach 
of  a  hundred  miles.  But  the  Fourth  of  July  came,  and 
the  miners  were  gathered  together,  and  they  were  cele- 
brating the  Fourth  with  oration  and  poem  and  a  boister- 
ous brass  band;  and  while  the  band  was  playing  an 
infant's  voice  was  heard  crying,  and  all  the  miners  were 
startled,  and  the  swarthy  men  began  to  think  of  their 
homes  on  the  eastern  coast,  and  of  their  wives  and  chil- 
dren far  away,  and  their  hearts  were  thrilled  with  home- 
sickness as  they  heard  the  babe  cry.  But  the  music 
went  on,  and  the  child  cried  louder  and  louder,  and  the 
brass  band  played  louder  and  louder,  trying  to  drown 
out  the  infantile  interruption,  when  a  swarthy  miner, 
the  tears  roiling  down  his  face,  got  up  and  shook  his  fist, 
and  said:  ''Stop  that  noisy  band  and  give  the  baby  a 
chance."  Oh!  there  was  pathos  in  it,  as  well  as  good 
cheer  in  it.  There  is  nothing  to  arouse  and  melt  and 
subdue  the  soul  like  a  child's  voice.  But  when  it 
goes  away  from  you,  the  high  chair  becomes  a  higher  chair, 
and  there  is  desolation  all  about  you.  I  cannot  speak 
from  experience,  thank  God;  but  in  three-fourths  of  the 
homes  of  my  congregation  there  is  a  vacant  high  chair. 
Somehow  you  never  get  over  it.  There  is  no  one  to  put 
to  bed  at  night;  no  oue  to  ask  strange  questions  about 
God  and  heaven.  Oh,  what  is  the  use  of  that  high  chair? 
It  is  to  call  you  higher.  What  a  drawing  upward  it  must 
be  to  have  children  in  heaven!  And  then  it  is  such  a 
preventative  against  sin.  If  a  father  is  going  away  into 
sin,  he  leaves  his  living  children  with  their  mother;  but 


454 


THE  VACANT  CHAIR. 


if  a  father  is  going  away  into  sin,  what  is  he  going  to 
do  with  his  dead  children  floating  about  him  and  hover- 
ing over  his  every  wayward  step.  Oh,  speak  out,  vacant 
high  chair,  and  say:  "Father,  come  back  from  sin; 
mother,  come  back  from  worldliness.  I  am  watching 
you.  I  am  waiting  for  you."  With  respect  to  your 
child,  the  words  of  my  text  have  been  fulfilled:  "Thou 
shalt  be  missed,  because  thy  seat  will  be  empty." 

My  hearers,  I  have  gathered  up  the  voices  of  your  de- 
parted friends  this  morning,  and  tried  to  intone  them 
into  one  invitation  upward.  I  set  in  array  all  the  vacant 
chairs  of  your  homes  and  of  your  social  circle,  and  I  bid 
them  cry  out  this  morning:  "Time  is  short.  Eternity 
is  near.  Take  my  Savior.  Be  at  peace  with  my  God. 
Come  up  where  I  am.  We  lived  together  on  earth;  come, 
let  us  live  together  in  heaven."  We  answer  that  invita- 
tion. We  come.  Keep  a  seat  for  us  as  Saul  kept  a  seat 
t'or  David,  but  that  seat  shall  not  be  empty.  I  have  been 
very  earnest  this  morning,  because  I  realize  the  fact  that 
the  day  will  come  when  the  pastor's  chair  will  be  empty. 
From  this  point,  how  often  have  I  looked  off  into  your 
friendly  faces.  I  have  seen  a  great  many  beautiful  and 
thrilling  sights,  but  never  anything  to  equal  what  I  have 
witnessed  when  in  this  chair.  I  have  looked  off  and  seen 
you  rise  for  the  doxology.  Seated  in  this  chair,  some- 
times I  have  greatly  rejoiced  at  seeing  multitudes  come 
to  God,  and  then,  again,  I  have  trembled  for  fear  men 
would  reject  the  Gospel.  I  wonder  what  this  chair  will 
testily  when  I  have  left  it  for  the  last  time?  Will  it  tell 
of  a  useful  life,  of  an  earnest  ministry,  of  a  pure  Gospel? 
God  grant  it  may.  The  most  powerful  sermon  that  is 
ever  preached  is  by  the  vacant  chair  of  a  pastor  the  Sab^ 
bath  after  he  has  been  carried  away  from  it.  And  oh  I 
when  we  are  all  through  with  this  world,  and  we  have 


THE  VACANT  CHAIR. 


455 


shaken  hands  all  around  for  the  last  time,  and  all  our 
chairs  in  the  home  circle  and  in  the  outside  world  shall 
be  vacant,  may  we  be  worshiping  God  in  that  place 
from  which  we  shall  go  out  no  more  for  ever.  I  thank 
God  there  will  be  no  vacant  chairs  in  heaven. 


456 


OUB  AMERICAN  CITIES. 


CHAPTEE  XXXVII. 

OUR  AMERICAN  CITIES. 

The  streets  of  the  city  shall  be  full  of  boys  and  girls  playing  in 
the  streets  thereof. — Zechariah  viii :  5. 

With  this  one  stroke  of  the  pencil  the  prophet  puts 
upon  canvas  the  safety  and  the  glee  of  the  world's  cities 
after  they  have  been  gospelized.  When  Christian  peo- 
ple shall  have  had  the  courage  to  look  upon  the  sins  of 
the  city,  and  the  courage  to  apply  the  gospel  to  those 
sins,  then  will  come  the  time  when  so  entirely  free  from 
ruffianism  and  vagabondism  will  all  the  streets  of  all  the 
cities  be,  that  the  children,  without  any  protection  of 
police,  or  any  parental  anxiety,  shall  fly  kite  and  play 
ball  anywhere.  ''The  streets  of  the  cities  shall  be  full  of 
boys  and  girls  playing  in  the  streets  thereof."  But  be- 
fore that  time,  oh,  how  much  expurgation.  I  have 
laughed  for  six  weeks  to  see  some  of  the  American  clergy 
running  about  with  their  hands  full  of  court-plaster  to 
cover  up  the  sins  that  I  have  been  probing.  A  little 
green  court-plaster  for  this,  a  little  white  court-plaster 
for  that,  a  little  blue  court-plaster  for  something  else. 
Ah!  my  friends,  court-plaster  can  cover  up,  but  it  can- 
not cure.  Not  saying  what  my  theory  is  in  regard  to 
the  treatment  of  physical  disease,  in  morals  I  am  an  allo- 
pathist,  and  I  believe  in  giving  a  good  stout  dose  to 
throw  the.  ulcers  to  the  surface,  and  then  put  on  the  salve 
of  the  old-fashioned  gospel  which  Christ  mixed  to  cure 
Bartimeus's  blind  eyes,  and  the  young  man  who  had  fits, 
and  the  ten  lepers,  and  the  miseries  of  all  generations. 

There  is  no  man  on  earth  who  has  more  exhilarant 


OUE  AMERICAN  CITIES. 


457 


hope  in  regard  to  the  moral  condition  and  prosperity  of 
our  great  American  cities,  but  that  hope  is  not  based  on 
apology  or  covering  up,  but  upon  exploration,  exposure 
and  Almighty  medicament.  After  as  thorough  an  ex- 
amination as  was  possible,  I  come  to  tell  you  what  I 
consider  to  be  the  moral  condition  of  this  country,  as 
inferred  from  "Washington,  the  city  of  official  power; 
Boston,  the  city  of  culture;  Philadelphia,  the  city  of 
beautiful  order;  Chicago,  the  city  of  miraculous  growth; 
New  York,  the  city  of  commercial  supremacy;  Brook- 
lyn, the  city  of  homes;  and  soon,  only  stopping  next 
Sunday  to  have  a  few  words  with  my  critics  in  regard 
to  what  is  the  mission  of  a  minister  of  the  gospel.  As 
the  cities  go,  so  goes  the  land.  "Who  has  moral  barome- 
ter mighty  enough  to  tell  the  influence  of  Cincinnati 
upon  Ohio,  or  of  Baltimore  upon  Maryland,  or  of  Charles- 
ton upon  South  Carolina,  or  of  New  Orleans  upon  Louis- 
iana, or  of  Louisville  upon  Kentucky,  or  of  San  Francisco 
upon  California?  Let  me  feel  the  puise  of  the  cities,  and 
I  will  tell  you  the  pulse  of  the  land.  God  gives  to  every 
city,  as  to  every  individual,  a  mission.  As  our  physical 
and  mental  characteristics  show  what  our  personal  sphere 
is,  so  topographical  and  historical  facts  show  the  mission 
of  a  city.  Every  city  comes  to  be  known  for  certain 
characteristics:  Babylon  for  pride,  Sparta  for  military 
prowess,  Dresden  for  pictures,  Home  for  pontifical  rule, 
Venice  for  architecture  in  ruins,  Glasgow  for  shipbuild- 
ing. Edinburgh  for  learning,  and  London  for  being  the 
mightiest  metropolis  of  the  world.  Our  American  cities, 
of  course,  are  younger,  and  therefore  their  characteris- 
tics are  not  so  easily  defined;  but  I  think  I  have  struck 
the  right  word  in  designation  of  each.  "Wrapped  up 
and  interlocked  with  the  welfare  and  the  very  existence 
of  this  nation  stands  the  city  of  "Washington,  on  the 


45S 


OCR  AMERICAN  CITIES. 


Potomac — planted  there  by  way  of  compromise.  At  the 
dining-table  of  Alexander  Hamilton  it  was  decided  that 
if  the  South  would  agree  that  the  National  Government 
should  assume  the  State  debts,  then  the  North  would 
agree  to  have  the  capital  on  the  Potomac  instead  of  on 
the  .Delaware.  So  the  capital  went  from  Annapolis  to 
Philadelphia,  and  from  Philadelphia  to  Trenton,  and 
from  Trenton  to  New  York,  and  then  passed  from  New 
York  to  the  Potomac,  where  it  will  stay  until  within  a 
centu?y  it  shall  be  planted  on  the  banks  of  the  Missis- 
sippi, or  the  Missouri,  just  as  soon  as  the  nation  shall 
find  cat  from  the  law  of  national  growth  that  it  is  better 
to  h&ve  the  hub  of  a  wheel  at  the  center  rather  than  at 
the  rim  of  the  tire.  "Well,"  you  say,  "what's  all  that 
to  me?J  You  have  just  as  much  to  do  with  the  city  of 
Washington  as  your  heart  has  to  do  with  your  body. 
Washington  is  the  heart  of  the  nation.  If  it  send  out 
gcod  blood,  good  national  health.  If  it  send  out  bad 
blood,  bad  national  sickness.  It  is  to  me  one  of  the  most 
fascinating  cities  in  the  world,  and  I  believe  I  shall  show 
you  before  I  get  through  that  it  has  come  to  a  higher 
condition  of  morality  than  it  has  ever  before  reached. 
It  is  a  city  of  palaces.  He  who  has  seen  the  Treasury 
buildings,  and  the  National  Post-office,  and  the  Capitol, 
and  the  departments  of  State,  has  seen  the  grandest  tri- 
umphs of  masonry,  architecture,  painting,  and  sculpture. 
I  put  the  eight  panels  of  the  bronze  door  of  the  Capitol 
against  the  door  of  the  Church  of  Madeleine,  at  Paris. 

You  talk  about  the  works  of  the  old  masters.  Go  to 
Washington  and  see  the  works  of  the  new  masters: 
Leutz's  ''Westward  Ho,"  Brumidi's  frescoes,  Green- 
ough's  Washington,  Crawford's  statue  of  Freedom.  I 
put  the  white  marble  mountain  of  magnificence  in  which 
our  Congress  assembles  against  the  Tuilleries  and  the 


OUR  AMERICAN  CITIES. 


459 


Parliament-houses  of  London.  It  is  a  city  laid  out  more 
grandly  than  any  city  in  the  land.  Mr.  Ellicott  by  as- 
tronomical observations  running  the  great  boulevards 
from  north  to  south,  and  from  east  to  west.  Every  inch 
of  its  Pennsylvania  avenue  historical  with  the  footsteps 
of  Webster,  and  Clay,  and  Jackson,  and  Calhoun,  and 
Washington.  Hundreds  of  thousands  of  people  along 
those  streets  vociferating  at  the  inaugurations.  Streets 
along  which  Charles  Sumner  moved  out  toward  Mount 
Auburn,  and  Abraham  Lincoln  toward  Springfield,  the 
bells  of  the  nation  tolling  at  the  obsequies,  and  the  or- 
gans of  the  continent  throbbing  with  the  Dead  March. 
City  of  huzza  and  requiem.  City  of  patriotism  and  de- 
bauchery. City  of  national  sacrifice  and  back  pay.  City 
of  Senatorial  dignity  and  corrupt  lobby.  City  of  Eman- 
cipation Proclamation  and  Credit  Mobilier.  City  of  the 
best  men  and  the  worst.  City  of  Washington.  Now, 
I  have  watched  that  city  when  Congress  was  in  session? 
and  when  Congress  was  away.  The  morals  of  the  city 
are  fifty  per  cent  better  when  Congress  is  away.  Then, 
at  that  time,  piety  becomes  more  dominant.  It  is  one 
of  the  woes  of  this  country  that  so  many  national  legis- 
lators leave  their  famiiies  at  home.  These  distinguished 
men  coming  to  Washington  show  the  need  of  domestic 
snpervisal.  A  man  entirely  absent  from  elevated  female 
society  is  naturally  a  bear.  Men  are  better  at  home  than 
they  are  away  from  home.  It  is  said  that  even  ministers 
of  the  gospel  during  vacation  sometimes  go  to  the  Sara- 
toga horse-races.  It  is  said  that  some  members  of  Con- 
gress, faithful  to  their  religious  duties  during  vacation, 
during  term  time  give  the  vacation  to  their  religion. 
There  are  iniquities  in  Washington,  however,  not  asso- 
ciated with  office — iniquities  that  stay  all  the  year  round. 
Flenty  of  drinking  establishments,  plenty  of  hells  of 


460 


OUR  AMERICAN  CITIES. 


infamy,  and  the  police  in  their  attempts  to  keep  order 
do  not  get  as  much  encouragement  as  they  ought  from 
the  courts  and  churches.  On  Christmas  Day  ten  men 
in  contest  on  Pennsylvania  avenue,  one  of  them  shot 
dead,  others  bruised  and  mangled,  the  culprits  brought 
before  the  District  Attorney  and  let  go.  The  sins  ram- 
pant in  New  York  and  Brooklyn  rampant  in  Washing- 
ton. Two  thousand  dramshops  and  grocery  stores  and 
apothecary  shops  where  they  sell  strong  drink — two 
thousand  in  Washington.  Twelve  thousand  nine  hun- 
dred and  eighty-three  arrests  during  last  year.  Over 
four  thousand  people  in  that  city  who  neither  read  nor 
write.  One  hundred  and  twenty  thousand  dollars  of 
stolen  property  captured  by  the  police  last  year.  All  this 
suggestive  to  every  intelligent  mind.  Washington  wTants 
more  police.  The  beat  of  each  policeman  in  Washing- 
ton and  Georgetown  is  on  an  average  ten  miles.  Only 
nine  mounted  police. in  that  vast  city,  which  has  rushed 
up  in  population  and  more  than  doubled  in  nine  years — 
rushing  up  from  61,000  to  131,000.  But  oh!  what  an 
improvement  since  the  day  when  the  most  flourishing 
liquor  establishments  were  under  the  National  Capitol, 
and  Congressmen  and  Senators  went  there  to  get  inspi- 
ration before  they  made  their  speeches,  and  went  there- 
to get  recuperation  afterward.  Thanks  to  Henry  Wilson 
and  a  few  men  like  him  for  the  overthrow  of  that  abom- 
ination. During  the  war  there  were  one  hundred  gam- 
bling-houses in  the  city  of  Washington;  there  were  over 
five  hundred  professional  gamblers  there.  One  gambling- 
house  boasted  that  in  one  year  it  had  cleared  over  half  a 
million  of  dollars.  During  one  session  of  Congress  the 
keeper  of  a  gambling-house  went  to  the  Sergeant-at- 
Arms  at  the  Capitol  and  presented  an  order  for  the 
greater  part  of  the  salary  of  many  of  the  members,  who 


OUR  AMERICAN   CITIES.  461 

had  lost  so  heavily  at  the  faro- table  that  they  had  thus 
to  mortgage  their  salaries;  and  if  now,  when  there  are 
about  twenty  gambling-houses  remaining  in  the  city  of 
Washington,  you  should  go,  you  would  find  in  those 
places  clerks  of  departments,  bouk-keepers,  confidential 
and  private  secretaries;  and  if  you  should  go  to  some  of 
the  more  expensive  establishments,  near  Pennsylvania 
avenue  and  Thirteenth  and  Fourteenth  streets,  you  would 
find  in  tjiose  gambling-houses  members  of  Congress,, 
officers  of  the  army,  gentlemen  distinguished  all  the 
land  over.  It  seems  to  me  that  the  reporters  of  Wash- 
ington are  not  as  wide  awake  as  our  reporters  or  they 
would  crive  to  the  different  States  of  the  Union  the 
names  of  the  places  where  some  of  their  great  represen- 
tatives in  Congress  are  accustomed  to  spend  their  even- 
ings. But  what  a  vast  improvement  in  the  morals  of 
that  city!  Dueling  abolished.  No  more  clubbing  of 
Senators  for  opposite  opinion.  Mr.  Covode,  of  Pennsyl- 
vania, no  more  brandishes  a  weapon  over  the  head  of 
Barksdale  of  Mississippi.  Grow  and  Heitt  no  more 
take  each  other  by  the  throat.  Griswold  no  more  pounds 
Lyon,  Lyon  snatching  the  tongs  and  striking  back  until 
the  two  members  in  a  scuffle  roll  on  the  floor  of  the  great 
American  Congress.  Owl  there  has  been  a  vast  im- 
provement. Is  it  not  a  matter  of  great  congratulation 
that  there  are  to-day  more  thoroughly  Christian  men  at 
the  heads  of  departments  of  State  in  Washington  than 
at  any  time  since  the  foundation  of  the  Government,  and 
that  the  Queen  of  American  society,  by  her  simplicity 
of  wardrobe  in  the  White  House,  has  put  condemnation 
upon  that  extravagance  of  wardrobe  which  well-nigh 
shipwrecked  some  other  administrations,  and  by  the 
banishment  of  the  wine-cup  from  State  dinners  has 
shown  to  people  in  this  country  in  high  position  that 


462 


OUR  AMERICAN  CITIES. 


people  may  be  jolly  and  yet  be  sober?  Whatever  may 
be  your  opinion  in  regard  to  the  politics  of  the  Presiden- 
tial mansion — and  I  know  there  is  a  great  difference  of 
opinion  among  you — I  have  to  tell  you  that  there  lias 
never  been  a  purer  White  House,  less  rum  and  tobacco, 
more  Methodist  hymn-books,  or  a  higher  style  of  per- 
sonal morality  than  to-day. 

I  came  back  from  my  observations  of  the  city  of 
Washington  impressed  with  two  or  three  things.  And 
first,  while  I  would  not  have  the  question  of  a  man's 
being  a  Christian  or  not  a  Christian  brought  into  the 
political  contest,  I  do  demand  that  every  man  sent  to 
Washington,  or  to  any  other  place  of  authority,  be  a 
man  of  good  morals.  Will  you  send  a  blasphemer,  as 
you  have  sometimes?  Blasphemy  is  an  indictable  of- 
fense against  the  State.  Will  you  send  to  Washington 
a  man  to  make  laws  who  breaks  laws?  Will  you  send 
an  atheist?  How  can  he  swear  to  support  the  Constitu- 
tion of  the  United  States  when  there  is  no  solemnity  in 
an  oath  if  there  be  no  God?  Will  you  send  a  man  who 
indulges  in  games  of  chance,  whether  the  amount  be 
$500  or  five  cents?  No.  Gambling  is  denounced  by 
the  statute  of  every  State.  Will  you  send  a  libertine? 
Then  you  insult  every  family  in  the  United  States.  Be- 
fore you  send  a  man  to  your  City  Hall,  or  your  State 
Legislature,  or  to  your  national  council,  go  through  him 
with  a  lighted  candle  and  find  if  he  swear,  if  he  lie,  if 
he  cheat,  if  he  dishonor  the  family  relation,  if  he  keep 
bad  company.  If  he  does  let  him  stay  at  home.  Scratch 
his  name  off  your  ticket  with  the  blackest  ink,  and  put 
on  a  blot  after.  How  dare  yon  send  such  a  man  to  a 
Congress  where  John  Quincy  Adams  died,  or  to  a  Sen- 
ate Chamber  where  Theodore  Frelinghuysen  sat,  his  face 
illumined  with  charity  and  heaven?    No  religious  test, 


OUR  AMERICAN  CITIES. 


463 


bat  a  moral  test,  is  demanded  for  every  ballot-box  m  the 
city,  State,  and  national  elections.  Years  ago  some  men 
were  sent  to  Congress — and  I  am  sorry  to  say  there  are 
some  of  them  left — who  were  walking  charnel-houses. 
Nothing  but  a  grave-digger's  spade  could  free  the  world 
from  their  corruption.  Some  of  them  died  of  delirium 
tremens,  and  in  a  brothel.  After  they  had  been  dead  a 
little  while,  some  member,  for  the  purpose  of  giving  a 
stone-cutter  a  lucrative  job,  moved  that  a  large  sum  of 
city,  State,  or  national  funds  be  appropriated  for  build- 
ing a  monument.  ."Now,  I  have  no  objections  to  such  a 
monument  to  such  a  man  if  you  put  on  it  the  right  kind 
of  epitaph  and  uncover  it  in  the  right  way.  Let  the  un- 
covering of  that  monument  be  when  an  August  thun- 
der-storm is  approaching.  Let  the  blocks  of  marble  of 
that  monument  be  cut  in  the  shape  of  the  ivory  "chips" 
in  which  the  deceased  patriot  used  to  gamble.  On  the 
four  corners  of  the  pedestal  of  the  monument,  cut  in 
marble,  let  there  be  wine-cup,  flask,  decanter,  demijohn. 
Then  gather  around  for  the  dedication  of  this  monument 
the  fragments  of  families  whom  he  despoiled,  and  let 
them  come,  and  on  each  block  of  marble  let  them  drop 
a  bitter  tear;  and  then  when  the  blackest  fold  of  that 
August  thunder-storm  has  wrapped  the  top  of  the  mon- 
ument in  darkness,  and  when  some  man*  high  in  church 
or  State,  recreant  to  the  truth,  stands  there  delivering 
the  eulogium,  let  the  black  cloud  open  and  a  bolt  strike 
into  dust  the  monumental  infamy  with  a  thunder  which 
shall  make  all  our  American  capitals  quake  with  the 
reverberation.    "The  name  of  the  wicked  shall  rot." 

Again:  I  came  back  from  Washington  with  the  im- 
pression that  we  need  a  great  national  religion.  I  do 
not  mean  a  religion  controlled  by  State  officials,  but  I 
mean  a  religion  dictated  by  a  nation  gospelized.   I  mean 


464 


OUR  AMERICAN  CITIES. 


a  religion  mighty  enough  to  control  the  morals  of  a  na- 
tion. Old  politicians  will  not  be  reformed.  The  under-' 
takers  must  hurry  up  the  funerals  in  these  cases  of  polit- 
ical mortification.  They  will  never  be  any  better,  those 
men.  But  gospelize  the  voters  and  then  you  will  have 
gospelized  officers  of  government.  The  pivot  on  which 
this  nation  turns  is  the  ballot-box.  Set  that  pivot  on 
the  Rock  of  Ages.  There  is  only  one  being  who  can 
save  this  nation,  and  that  is  God.  We  talk  a  great  deal 
about  putting  the  name  of  God  more  thoroughly  into 
the  Constitution  of  the  United  States.  Ah!  my  friends, 
it  is  not  God  in  the  Constitution  that  we  want;  it  is  God 
in  the  hearts  of  the  people.  That  test  is  going  to  come, 
if  not  in  our  time,  then  in  the  time  of  our  children. 
There  has  been  a  good  deal  of  discussion  of  late  as  to 
whether  the  battle  of  Lookout  Mountain  was  really 
fought  above  the  clouds.  General  Grant  says  no.  Gen- 
eral Hooker  says  yes.  We  will  not  go  into  that  discus- 
sion; but  I  tell  you  at  the  very  battle  in  this  country 
for  ninety-eight  years  has  been  fought  above  the  clouds, 
God  and  angels  on  our  side.  First  came  the  war  of  the 
American  revolution.  That  was  the  birth-throe  that  ush- 
ered this  nation  into  life.  Then  came  the  war  of  1S12.  That 
was  the  infantile  disease  through  which  every  child  must 
go.  Then  came  the  war  of  1S61.  That  was  the  great 
typhoid  which  was  to  revolutionize  the  national  s}Tstem; 
and  when  this  nation  resumed  specie  payments,  that  was 
the  settlement  of  the  doctor's  bill  I  Now  let  the  nation 
march  on  in  its  grand  career.  Lord  God  of  Bunker 
Hill,  out  of  the  trenches  of  Gettysburg,  so  long 
leading  us  with  pillar  of  fire  by  night,  give  us  the  pillar 
of  cloud  by  day.  Lord  God  of  Joshua,  bring  down  the 
walls  of  opposition  to  this  nation,  at  the  blast  of  the 
Gospel  trumpet.    Lord  God  of  Daniel,  move  around 


OUE  AMERICAN  CITIES. 


465 


about  us  amid  the  leonine  despotisms  that  growl  for  our 
destruction.  Lord  God  of  our  fathers,  make  us  worthy 
descendants  of  a  brave  ancestry.  Lord  God  of  our  chil- 
dren, bring  forth  from  the  cradles  of  the  rising  genera- 
tion a  race  to  do  better  than  we,  when  our  hand  and 
voice  are  still.  Then  let  all. the  rivers  of  this  land  flow- 
ing into  the  gulf,  or  into  the  Atlantic  and  Pacific  seas, 
be  rivers  of  salvation,  and  all  the  mountains,  Olivets  of 
truth  and  Pisgahs  of  prospect,  and  the  mists  rising  from 
the  lakes  will  be  the  incense  of  holy  praise,  and  our  cities 
will  be  so  thoroughly  evangelized  that  boys  and  girls, 
according  to  the  teaching  of  my  text,  will  be  found  play- 
ing in  the  streets  thereof. 

I  learn  once  more,  from  my  observation  in  the  city  of 
Washington,  that  worldly  greatness  is  a  very  transitory 
and  unsatisfactory  thing.  Great  men,  I  noticed  in 
Washington,  are  great  only  a  little  while.  The  majority 
of  those  men  whom  you  saw  there  ten  or  fifteen  years 
ago  are  either  in  the  grave  or  in  political  disgrace.  How 
rapidly  the  wheel  turns!  Call  the  roll  of  Jefferson's 
Cabinet.  Dead.  Call  the  roll  of  Madison's  Cabinet. 
Dead.  Call  the  roll  of  Monroe's  Cabinet.  Dead.  Call 
the  roll  of  Pierce's  Cabinet.  Dead.  Of  Abraham  Lin- 
coln's Cabinet,  if  I  remember  right,  all  dead  but  one, 
and  he  as  good  as  dead.  Call  the  roll  of  Grant's  Cabi- 
net. One  or  more  of  them  worse  than  dead.  The  Con- 
gressional burying-ground  in  the  city  of  Washington 
has  one  hundred  and  sixty  cenotaphs  planted  in  honor  of 
members  who  died  while  in  office;  but  they  are  only 
suggestive  of  a  vaster  congress  departed.  What  is  polit- 
ical honor  in  this  country?  As  far  as  I  can  judge,  it  is 
the  privilege  of  being  away  from  home  amid  temptations 
that  have  slain  the  mightiest,  bored  to  death  by  office- 
seekers,  assaulted  by  meanest  acrimony,  and  kicked  into 


OUa  AMERICAN  CITIES. 


obscurity  with  your  health  gone  when  your  time  is  ouf. 
One  of  the  Senators  of  the  United  States  dying:  in  Flat- 
bush  Hospital,  idiotic  from  his  dissipations.  One  mem- 
ber of  Congress  I  saw,  years  ago,  seated  drunk  on  the 
curbstone  in  Philadelphia,,  his  wife-  trying  to  coax  him 
home.  A  Congressman  from  itfew  York,  years  ago,  on 
a  cold  day,  picked  out  of  the  Potomac;  into  which  he  had 
dropped  through  his  intoxication,  the  only  time  when  he 
iv  r  came  so  near  losing  his  life  by  too  much  cold  water. 
Delaware  had  i  Senator  whose  -chief  characteristic  was, 
he  was  always  drunk.  Illinois  had  a  Senator  celebrated 
in  the  same  direction.  Oh!  my  friends — and  I  say  this 
especially  to  the  young  men  in  my^audience — there  are 
so  many  temptations  coming  around  all  political  honors, 
that  before  you  seek  them  you  had  better  see  whether 
your  morals  are  incorruptible.  And  I  also  point  out  to 
yon  the  tact  that  American  politics  are  most  unfair  to 
the  most  faithful  and  self-sacrificing  men.  I  will  never 
orgive  American  politics  for  the  fact  that  it  slew  Hor- 
ace Greeley.  This  country  never  saw  a  better  patriot. 
Sis  whole  life  given  to  reform,  making  a  magnificent 
record  for  his  country,  all  his  deeds  of  self-sacrifice  and 
his  brilliant,,  intellectual  achievements  forgotten  in  one 
hour.  There  came  a  time  when  he  felt  that  he,,  better 
than  any  other  man  in  the  Presidential  chair,  could  adjust 
the  difficulties  between  the  sections,  and  while  he  was 
talking  about  the  3Forth  and  the  South  "clasping  hands 
across  the  bloody  chasm,"  American  politics  pushed  him 
into  it.  When  American  politics  did  that,  it  committed 
the  greatest  outrage  of  the  century  and  proved  itself 
ruilty  of  patricide  in  the  tact  that  it  murdered  a  father 
and  of  regicide  in  the  tact  that  it  slew  a  kinir.  Oh! 
young  men,- look  not  for  the  honors  of  this  world:  look 
only  for  the  honors  that  come  from  Grod.    They  never 


mtoxkate.  They  itever  dedgaj.  Cmwm,  farm**  .  w.-  - 
torn,  tiwunwm — wUt  yom  We  ihemt  Dad  j«w  erer 
hear  Wimmm  Km  Knax.  dag  "The  Uet  ChaMP  That 
wmg  h  tmaded  am  this  heaa&M  WetL  Scnaa*;  <Mae  *sut  aut 
a  <w  w^sua  in  reverie,  finger*  wandering  amrmg 
the  key*,  when  dm  tom^^ed  a  dk*d  </f  ift&uiife  tweetoetf 
that  serot  all  W  s&wE  v3lto»t3©g  with,  e&mfort  and  wHk 
yey.  Bnt  $te  kept  ffaflt  lift  therd  of  pmie  ©filly  a  mio- 
not  White  *3be  pfl&yed  fbe  lort  it,  aad  for  year*  dm 
Mfjkt  if*  that  fotit  ek»d  <of  wiiftt*ic,  tat  ftmuad  ft  Mfc 
Bat  awe  day  *he  tftibfiM  hmd^  in  a  better  e<w&©itry<, — 
In  heaven,  wwm%  itbe  immtretey  <vf  tike  coved* — the  would 
get  again  flat  tot  ebord.  If  yea  have  hesml  F^reme 
Bke  Emm  dag  "The  JsM  CVM,"  yum*  am  am  die, 
vrgan  o»  the  other  Me  aeefrtnymym^  thm  yon  have 
fortatrd  something  most  nsemorablle*  Owr  f  sr«tt  parentte  in 
I'&md'ise  had  happiness  far n  little  while,  sod  then  in  i  btod 
it  Men  tare  gone  searehm^  ait  tbflMyb  tone  and  ap- 
pbn#e  nod  riebe*  and  enaoiuanenl,  'Wait  found  ft  not  I® 
all  tine  age*  it  ha*  eluded  their  gra*p.  It  i*  ithe  left 
ebord,  B!le**ed  be  God,  in  Chriit,  <wr  p*atf#  we  fnd 
again*  that  wbkb  we  mM  find  fiowbere  eflm  He  h  the 
float  chord  lommL  The  xjmtyhmy  begins  'here  nm'A  ow 
earrow*,  wbieh  we  mast  have  emnforted,  asA  ouj  dmf 
which  we  mwet  hare  *3*Sn;  hut  it  wUl  emae  to  it* 
mightiest  name  m  the  day  when  ike  'Wto  of  the  etet^ 
nai  onhestra  ahaJX  he&n  to  awing,  and  we  §k&^  Wse  1st- 

fc^dj  hury&.    TUi  will  tie  tU  iott  cj^ri  Ioujucl 


468 


HOW  MINISTERS  ARE  LIED  ABOUT. 


CHAPTER  XXXVIII. 

HOW  MINISTERS  ARE  LIED  ABOUT. 
To  every  man  his  work. — Mark  xiii :  34. 

There  are  now  in  the  world  one  thousand  three  hun- 
dred and  seventy-seven  millions  of  people,  and  conse- 
quently there  are  one  thousand  three  hundred  and  sev- 
enty-seven million  fields  of  usefulness.  No  individual 
can  do  the  work  of  any  one  else.  If  a  man  neglect  his 
work  it  is  undone  for  ever.  "To  every  man  his  work." 
You  may  not  know  that  this  is  a  double  aniversary.  It 
is  nearly  ten  years  since  I  became  pastor  of  this  church. 
Besides  that,  last  Wednesday,  January  7th,  I  was  47 
years  of  age.  This  being  a  double  aniversary,  }^ou  will  not 
be  surprised  if  my  sermon  this  morning  is  autobiograph- 
ical. I  started  life  in  an  old-fashioned  Christian  family, 
where  they  had  prayers  morning  and  night,  and  always  ( 
asked  a  blessing  at  the  table;  and  there  was  no  excep- 
tion to  the  rule,  for,  if  my  father  was  sick  or  away,  my 
mother  led,  and  while  sometimes,  when  my  father  led, 
we  found  it  hard  to  repress  childish  restlessness,  there 
was  something  in  the  tones  of  my  mother,  and  there  was 
something  in  the  tears  which  always  choked  her  utter- 
ance before  she  got  through  with  the  prayer,  that  was 
irresistible.  The  fact  is,  that  mothers  get  their  hearts  so 
wound  around  their  children  that  when  they  think  of 
their  future,  and  the  trials  and  temptations  to  which  they 
may  be  subjected,  they  cannot  control  their  emotions  as 
easily  as  men  do.  While  he  had  a  very  sympathetic  nature, 
I  never  saw  my  father  cry  but  once,  and  that  was  when 


HOW  MINISTERS  ARE  LIED  ABOUT. 


469 


they  put  the  lid  over  my  mother.  Her  hair  was  white 
as  the  snow,  and  her  face  was  very  much  wrinkled,  for 
she  had  worked  very  hard  for  us  all  and  had  had  many 
sicknesses  and  bereavements.  I  do  not  know  how  she 
appeared  to  the  world,  nor  what  artists  may  have  thought 
of  her  features;  but  to  us  she  was  perfectly  beautiful. 
There  were  twelve  of  us  children,  but  six  of  them  are  in 
heaven.  I  started  for  the  legal  profession  with  an  admi- 
ration for  it  which  has  never  cooled,  for  I  cannot  now 
walk  along  by  a  court-house,  or  hear  an  attorney  address 
a  jury,  without  having  all  my  pulses  accelerated  and  my 
enthusiasm  aroused.  I  cannot  express  my  admiration 
for  a  profession  adorned  with  the  names  of  Marshall, 
and  Story,  and  Kent,  and  Rufus  Choate,  and  John  Mc- 
Lean. But  God  converted  my  soul  and  put  me  into  the 
ministry  by  a  variety  of  circumstances,  shutting  me  up 
to  that  glorious  profession.  And  what  a  work  it  is!  I 
thank  God  every  day  for  the  honor  of  being  associated 
with  what  I  consider  the  most  elevated,  educated,  re- 
fined, and  consecrated  band  of  men  on  this  planet — the 
Christian  ministry  of  America.  I  know,  I  think,  about 
five  thousand  of  them  personally,  and  they  are  as  near 
perfection  as  human  nature  ever  gets  to  be.  Some  of 
them  on  starvation  salaries,  and  with  worn  health  and 
amid  ten  thousand  disadvantages,  trying  to  bring  com- 
fort and  pardon  to  the  race.  1  am  proud  to  have  my 
name  on  the  roll  with  them,  though  my  name  may  be 
at  the  very  bottom  of  the  roll,  and  am  willing  to  be  their 
servant  for  Jesus's  sake.  But  we  all  have  a  work.  "To 
every  man  his  work."  I  will  not  hide  the  fact  that  it 
has  been  the  chief  ambition  of  my  ministry  to  apply  a 
religion  six  thousand  years  old  to  the  present  day — a  re- 
ligion of  four  thousand  years  B.  C.  to  1869  and  1879 
A.  D.    So  I  went  to  work  to  find  the  oldest  religion  I 


4:70 


HOW  MINISTERS  ARE  LIED  ABOUT. 


could  see.  I  sought  for  it  in  my  Bible,  and  I  found  it 
-ii  the  Garden  of  Eden,  wher,e  the  serpent's  head  is  prom- 
ised a  bruising  by  the  heel  of  Christ.  I  said,  "That  is 
the  religion,"  and  I  went  to  work  to  see  what  kind  of 
men  that  religion  made,  and  I  found  Joshua,  and  Moses, 
and  Paul,  and  John  the  Evangelist,  and  John  Bunyan, 
and  John  Wesley,  and  John  Summerfield,  and  five  hun- 
dred other  Johns  as  good  or  approximate.  I  said:  "Ah! 
that  is  the  religion  I  want  to  preach — the  Edenic  relig- 
ion that  bruises  the  serpent's  head."  That  is  what  I 
have  been  trying  to  do.  The  serpent's  head  must  be 
bruised.  I  hate  him.  I  never  see  his  head  but  I  throw 
something  at  it.  That  is  what  I  have  been  trying  to  do 
during  these  courses  of  sermons,  to  bruise  the  serpent's 
head,  and  every  time  I  bruised  him  he  hissed,  and  the 
harder  I  bruised  him  the  harder  he  hissed.  You  never 
trod  on  a  serpent  but  he  hissed.  But  I  trod  on  him  with 
only  one  foot.  Before  I  get  through  I  shall  tread  on 
him  with  both  feet.  If  God  will  help  me  I  shall  bruise 
the  oppression  and  the  fraud  and  the  impurity  coiled  up 
amid  our  great  cities.  Come  now,  God  helping  me,  I 
declare  a  war  of  twenty-five  years  against  iniquity  and 
for  Christ,  if  God  will  let  me  live  so  long.  To  this  con- 
flict I  bring  every  muscle  of  my  body,  every  faculty  of 
ray  mind,  every  passion  of  my  soul.  Between  here  and 
my  bed  in  Greenwood  there  shall  not  be  an  inch  of  re- 
treat, or  indifference,  or  of  compromise.  After  I  am 
dead,  I  ask  of  the  world  and  of  the  church  only  one  thing 
— not  for  a  marble  slab,  not  for  a  draped  chair,  not  for  a 
long  funeral  procession,  not  for  a  flattering  ovation.  A 
plain  box  in  a  plain  wagon  will  be  enough,  if  the  elders 
of  the  church  will  stand  here  and  say  that  I  never  com- 
promised with  evil,  and  always  presented  Christ  to  the 
people.    Then  let  Father  Pearson,  if  he  be  still  alive, 


J IOW   MINISTERS  ARE  LIED  ABOUT. 


471 


pronounce  the  benediction,  and  the  mourners  go  home. 
I  do  not  forget  that  my  style  of  preaching  and  my  work 
in  general  have  been  sometimes  severely  criticised  by 
some  of  my  clerical  brethren.  It  has  come  to  be  under- 
stood that  at  installations  and  at  dedications  I  shall  be 
assailed.  I  have  sometimes  said  to  prominent  men  in 
my  church,  uGo  down  to  such  and  such  an  installation, 
and  hear  them  excoriate  Talmage."  And  they  go,  and 
they  are  always  gratified!  I  have  heard  that  sometimes 
in  Brooklyn,  when  an  audience  gets  dull  through  lack  of 
ventilation  in  the  church,  the  pastor  will  look  over  to- 
ward Brooklyn  Tabernacle  and  say  something  that  will 
wake  all  the  people  up,  and  they  will  hunch  each  other 
and  sa}%  "That's  Talmage!"  You  see,  there  are  some 
ministers  who  want  me  to  do  just  the  way  they  do;  and, 
as  I  cannot  see  my  duty  in  their  direction,  they  some- 
times call  me  all  sorts  of  names.  Some  of  them  call  me 
one  thing,  and  some  call  me  another  thing;  but  I  think 
the  three  words  that  are  most  glibly  used  in  this  connec- 
tion are  "mountebanks,"  "sensationalism,"  "buffoonery," 
and  a  variety  of  phrases  showing  that  some  of  my  dear 
clerical  brethren  are  not  happy.  Now,  I  have  the  ad- 
vantage of  all  such  critical  brethren  in  the  fact  that  I 
never  assault  them  though  they  assault  me.  The  dea 
souls!  I  wish  them  all  the  good  I  can  think  of — large 
audiences,  $15,000  salaries,  and  houses  full  of  children, 
and  heaven  to  boot!  I  rub  my  hands  all  over  their  heads 
in  benediction.  You  never  heard  me  say  one  word 
against  any  Christian  worker,  and  you  never  will.  The 
fact  is,  that  I  am  so  busy  in  assaulting  the  powers  of 
darkness  that  I  have  no  time  to  stop  and  stab  any  of  my 
own  regiment  in  the  back.  Now,  there  are  two  ways  in 
which  I  might  answer  some  of  the  critical  clergy.  I 
might  answer  them  by  the  same  bitterness  and  acrimony 


472 


HOW  MINISTERS  ARE  LIED  ABOUT. 


and  caricature  with  which  some  of  them  have  assaulted  . 
me;  but  would  that  advance  our  holy  religion?  Do  you 
not  know  that  there  is  nothing  that  so  prejudices  people 
against  Christianity  as  to  see  ministers  fighting?  It 
takes  two  to  make  a  battle,  so  I  will  let  them  go  on.  It 
relieves  them  and  does  not  hurt  me!  I  suppose  that  in 
the  war  of  words  I  might  be  their  equal,  for  nobody  has 
ever  charged  me  with  lack  of  vocabulary!  But  then,  you 
plainly  see  that  if  I  assaulted  them  with  the  same  bit- 
terness with  which  they  assaulted  me,  no  good  cause 
would  be  advanced.  There  is  another  way,  and  that  is 
by  giving  them  kindly,  loving,  and  brotherly  advice. 
uAh!"  you  say,  "that's  the  way;  that's  the  Christian 
way."  Then  I  advise  my  critical  brethren  of  the  clergy 
to  remember  what  every  layman  knows,  whether  in  the 
church  or  in  the  world,  that  you  never  build  yourself  up 
by  trying  tp  pull  anybody  else  down.  You  see,  my 
dear  critical  brethren — and  I  hope  the  audience  will 
make  no  response  to  what  I  am  saying — you  see,  my  dear 
critical  brethren,  you  fail  in  two  respects  when  you  try 
to  do  that;  first,  you  do  not  build  yourselves  up,  and 
secondly,  you  do  not  pull  anybody  else  down.  Show  me 
the  case  in  five  hundred  years  where  any  pulpit,  or  any 
church,  has  been  built  up  by  bombarding  some  other 
pulpit.  The  fact  is,  we  have  an  immense  membership 
in  this  church,  and  they  are  all  my  personal  friends. 
Then,  we  have  a  great  many  regular  attendants  who  are 
not  church  members,  and  a  great  many  occasional  attend- 
ants, from  all  parts  of  the  land,  and  these  peo.pl e  know 
that  I  never  give  any  bad  advice  in  this  place,  and  that 
I  always  give  good  advice,  and  that  God  by  conversion 
saves  as  many  souls  in  this  church  every  year  as  he  saves 
in  any  other  church.  Now,  my  dear  critical  brethren  of 
the  clergy,  why  assault  all  these  homes  throughout  the 


HOW  MINISTERS  ARE  LIED  ABOUT. 


473 


wor.d?  When  you  assault  me,  you  assault  them.  Be- 
side that,  uto  every  man  his  work."  I  wish  you  all 
prosperity,  critical  brethren.  You,  for  instance,  are 
metaphysical.  May  you  succeed  in  driving  people  into 
heaven  by  raising  a  great  fog  on  earth.  You  are  se- 
verely logical.  Hook  the  people  into  glory  by  the  horns 
of  a  dilemma.  You  are  anecdotal.  Charm  the  people 
to  truth  by  capital  stories  well  told.  You  are  illustra- 
tive. Twist  all  the  flowers  of  the  field  and  all  the  stars 
of  heaven  into  your  serin  on.  You  are  classical.  Wield 
the  club  of  Hercules  for  the  truth,  and  make  Parnassus 
bow  to  Calvary.  Your  work  is  not  so  much  in  the  pul- 
pit as  from  house  to  house,  by  pastoral  visitation.  The 
Lord  go  with  you  as  you  go  to  take  tea  with  the  old 
ladies,  and  hold  the  children  on  your  lap  and  tell  them 
how  much  they  look  like  their  father  and  mother!  Stay 
all  the  afternoon  and  evening,  and  if  it  is  a  damp  night 
stay  all  night!  All  prosperity  to  you  in  this  pastoral 
work,  and  may  yon  by  that  means  get  the  whole  family 
into  the  kingdom  of  God.  You  will  reach  people  I 
never  will  reach,  and  I  will  reach  people  you  never  will 
reach.  Go  ahead.  In  every  possible  way,  my  dear  crit- 
ical brethren  of  the  clergy,  will  I  help  you.  If  yoii 
have  anything  going  on  in  your  church — lecture,  con- 
cert, religious  meeting — send  me  the  notice  and  I  will 
read  it  here  with  complimentary  remarks,  and  when  you 
call  me  a  hard  name  I  will  call  you  a  blessed  fellow,  and 
when  you  throw  a  brickbat  at  me,  an  ecclesiastical  brick- 
bat, then  I  will  pour  holy  oil  on  your  head  until  it  runs 
clear  down  on  your  coat  collar!  There  is  nothing  that 
so  invigorates  and  inspires  me  as  the  opportunity  to  say 
pleasant  things  about  my  clerical  brethren.  God  pros- 
per you,  my  critical  brethren  of  the  ministry,  and  put  a 
blessing  on  your  head,  and  a  blessing  in  your  shoe,  and 


474 


HOW  MINIS'! E LiS  AftE  LIED  ABOUT. 


a  blessing  in  your  gown — if  you  wear  one — and  a  bless- 
ing before  you,  and  a  blessing  behind  you,  and  a  blessing 
under  you,  and  a  blessing  on  the  top  of  you,  so  that  you 
cannot  get  out  until  you  mount  into  heaven,  where  I  ap- 
point a  meeting  with  you  on  the  north  side  of  the  river, 
under  the  Tree  of  Life,  to  talk  over  the  honor  we  had  on 
earth  of  working  each  one  in  his  own  way.  "  To  every 
man  his  work."  We  ought  to  be  an  example,  my  criti- 
cal brethren,  to  other  occupations.  How  often  we  hear 
lawyers  talking  against  lawyers,  and  doctors  talking 
against  doctors,  and  merchants  talking  against  mer- 
chants. You  would  hardly  go  into  a  store  on  one  side 
of  the  street  to  get  a  merchant's  opinion  of  a  merchant 
on  the  other  side  of  the  street  in  the  same  line  of  busi- 
ness. We  ought,  in  the  ministry,  to  be  examples  to  all 
other  occupations.  If  we  have  spites  and  jealousies,  let 
us  hide  them  forever.  If  we  have  not  enough  divine 
grace  to  do  it,  let  common  worldly  prudence  dictate. 

But  during  these  ten  years  in  which  I  have  preached 
to  you,  I  have  not  only  received  the  criticism  of  the 
world,  but  I  have  often  received  its  misrepresentation, 
and  I  do  not  suppose  any  man  of  any  *ige  escapes  if  he 
be  trying  to  do  a  particular  wTorkfor  God  and  the  church, 
It  was  said  that  Eowland  Hill  advertised  he  would  on 
the  following  Sabbath  make  a  pair  of  shoes  in  his  pul- 
pit, in  the  presence  of  his  audience,  and  that  he  came 
into  the  pulpit  with  a  pair  of  boots  and  a  knife,  and  hav- 
ing shied  off  the  top  of  the  boots,  presented  the  pair  of 
shoes.  It  was  said  that  Whiten* eld  was  preaching  one 
summer  day,  and  a  fly  buzzed  around  his  head,  and  he 
said,  'kThe  sinner  will  be  destroyed  as  certainly  as  I 
catch  that  fly."  He  clutched  at  the  fly  and  missed  it. 
The  story  goes  that  then  he  said  that  after  all  perhaps 
the  sinner  might  escape  through  salvation!  Twenty 


HOW  MINISTERS  ARE  LIED  ABOUT. 


475 


years  ago  the  pictorials  of  London  were  full  of  pictures 
of  Charles  Spurgeon,  astride  the  rail  of  the  pulpit, 
riding  down  in  the  presence  of  the  audience  to  show  how 
easy  it  was  to  go  into  sin;  and  then  the  pictorials  repre- 
sented him  as  climbing  up  the  railing  of  the  pulpit  to 
show  how  hard  it  was  to  get  to  heaven.  Mr.  Beecher 
was  said  to  have  entered  his  pulpit  one  warm  day,  and, 
wiping  the  perspiration  from  his  forehead,  to  have  said, 
"It's  hot!"  with  an  expletive  more  emphatic  than  devo- 
tional! Lies!  Lies!  All  of  them  lies.  No  minister  of 
the  gospel  escapes.  Certainly  I  have  not  escaped!  A 
few  years  ago,  when  I  was  living  in  Philadelphia,  I  came 
on  to  unite  in  holy  marriage  Dr.  Boynton,  the  eloquent 
geological  lecturer,  with  a  lady  of  New  York.  I  solem- 
nized the  marriage  ceremony  in  the  parlors  of  the  Fifth 
Avenue  Hotel.  The  couple  made  their  wedding  excur- 
sion in  a  balloon  that  left  Central  Park  within  the  pres- 
ence of  five  thousand  people.  When  I  got  back  to 
Philadelphia  I  saw  in  the  papers  that  I  had  disgraced 
the  holy  ordinance  of  marriage  by  performing  it  a  mile 
high,  above  the  earth,  in  a  balloon!  And  there  are  thou- 
sands of  people  to  this  day  who  believe  that  I  solem- 
nized fchat  marriage  above  the  clouds.  About  eight  or 
nine  years  ago,  in  our  chapel,  at  a  Christmas  festival  one 
week  night,  amid  six  or  eight  hundred  children  roaring 
happy,  with  candies  and  oranges  and  corn-balls,  and  with 
the  representation  of  a  star  in  Christmas  greens  right 
before  me,  I  said:  "Boys,  I  feel  like  a  morning  star." 
It  so  happened  that  that  phrase  is  to  be  found  in  a  negro 
song,  and  two  days  afterwards  it  appeared  over  the  name 
of  a  man  who  said  he  was  "a  member  of  a  neighboring 
church,"  that  I  had  the  previous  Sunday  night,  in  my 
pulpit,  quoted  two  or  three  verses  from  "Shoo  Fly!" 
And,  moreover,  it  went  on  to  say  that  we  sang  that  every 


476 


HOW  MINISTERS  ARE  LIED  ABOUT. 


Sunday  in  our  Sunday-school!  And  as  it  was  supposed 
that  "a  member  of  a  neighboring  church"  would  not 
lie,  grave  editorials  appeared  in  the  prominent  newspa- 
pers deploring  the  fact  that  the  pulpit  should  be  so  des- 
ecrated, and  that  the  Sabbath-schools  of  this  country 
seemed  to  be  going  to  ruin.  Some  years  ago,  in  the 
New  York  Independent,  I  wrote  an  article  denouncing 
the  exclusiveness  of  churches,  and  making  a  plea  for  the 
working  classes.  In  the  midst  of  that  article  there  were 
two  ironical  sentences,  in  which  I  expressed  the  disgust 
which  some  people  have  for  anybody  that  works  for  a 
living.  Some  enemy  took  those  two  ironical  sentences 
and  sent  them  all  around  the  world  as  my  sentiments  of 
disgust  with  the  working  classes,  and  a  popular  maga- 
zine of  the  country,  taking  those  two  ironical  sentences 
as  a  text,  went  on  to  say  that  I  preached  every  Sunday 
with  kid  gloves  and  swallowtail  coat  (!),  and  that  I  ought 
to  remember  that  if  I  ever  got  to  heaven  I  should  have 
to  be  associated  with  the  working  classes,  and  be  with 
the  fisherman  apostles,  and  Paul,  the  tent-maker.  To 
this  very  day,  I  get  letters  from  all  parts  of  the  earth 
containing  little  newspaper  scraps,  saying,  "Did  yon 
really  say  that?  How  is  it  possible  you  can  so  h%te  the 
working  classes?  How  can  you  make  that  accord  with 
the  words  of  sympathy  you  have  recently  been  uttering 
in  behalf  of  their  sorrows?''  A  few  years  ago  I  preached 
a  series  of  sermons  here  on  good  and  bad  amusements. 
There  appeared  a  sermon  as  mine,  denouncing  all  amuse- 
ments, representing  that  all  actors,  play-actors,  and  ac- 
tresses were  dissolute  without  any  exception,  and  that 
all  theatrical  places  were  indecent,  and  that  every  man 
who  went  to  a  theater  lost  his  soul,  and  that  it  was  wron« 
even  to  go  to  a  zoological  garden,  and  a  sin  to  look  at  a 
zebra.  I  never  preached  one  word  of  the  sermon.  Ever}* 


HOW  MINISTERS  AKE  LIED  ABOUT. 


477 


word  of  that  sermon  was  written  in  a  printing  office,  by 
a  man  who  had  never  seen  me,  or  seen  Brooklyn  Taber- 
nacle— every  word  of  it  except  the  text,  and  that  he  got 
by  sending  to- another  printing  office.  In  the  State  of 
Maine  a  religious  paper  has  a  letter  from  a  clergyman 
who  says  that  I  came  into  this  pulpit  on  Sabbath 
morning  with  Indian  dress,  feathers  on  my  head,  and 
scalping-knife  in  my  hand,  and  that  the  pulpit  was 
appropriately  adorned  with  arrows,  and  Indian  blank- 
ets, and  buffalo-skins;  and  the  clergyman,  in  that  letter, 
goes  on,  with  tears,  to  ask,  "What  is  the  world  com- 
ing to?"  and  asks  if  ecclesiastical  authority  somehow 
cannot  be  evoked  to  stop  such  an  outrage.  Why  do 
I  state  these  things?  To  stop  them?  Oh,  no.  But 
for  public  information.  I  do  not  want  to  stop  them. 
They  make  things  spicy!  Beside  that,  my  enemies  do 
more  for  me  than  ray  friends  can.  I  long  ago  learned 
to  harness  the  falsehood  and  abuse  of  the  world  for 
Christian  service.  I  thought  it  would  be  a  great  privi- 
lege if  I  could  preach  the  gospel  through  the  secular 
press  beyond  these  two  cities.  The  secular  press  of  these 
two  cities,  as  a  matter  of  good  neighborhood  and  of 
home  news,  have  more  than  done  me  justice;  and  I  thank 
them  for  it.  If  they  put  the  gospel  as  I  preach  it  in 
their  reportorial  columns,  I  should  be  very  mean  and 
ungrateful  if  I  objected  to  anything  in  the  editorial  col- 
uras.  I  have  felt  if  this  world  is  ever  brought  to  God, 
it  will  be  by  the  printing  press;  and  while  I  have  for 
many  years  been  allowed  the  privilege  of  preaching  the 
gospel  through  the  religious  press  all  around  the  world, 
I  wanted  to  preach  the  gospel  through  the  secular  press 
beyond  these  cities,  to  people  who  do  not  go  to  church 
and  who  dislike  churches.  My  enemies  have  given  me 
the  chance.    They  have  told  such  monstrous  lies  about 


478 


HOW  MINISTERS  ARE  LIED  ABOUT. 


this  pulpit  and  about  this  church  that  they  have  made 
all  the  world  curious  to  know  what  really  is  said  here 
They  have  opened  the  way  before  me  everywhere,  in  all 
the  cities  of  this  land,  so  that  now  the  best,  the  most 
conscientious,  and  the  most  leading  papers  of  the  coun- 
try allow  me,  week  by  week,  to  preach  repentance  and 
Christ  to  the  people.  And  first  of  ail,  now,  I  thank  the 
secular  press  of  these  two  cities  for  their  kindness,  and 
after  that  I  publicly  thank — for  I  shall  never  have  any 
opportunity  of  doing  so  save  this — the  Boston  Herald, 
the  Cincinnati  Enquirer,  the  Philadelphia  Press,  the 
Times  of  Philadelphia,  the  Albany  Argus,  the  Inter- 
Ocean  of  Chicago,  the  Advance  of  Chicago,  the  Courier 
Journal  of  Louisville,  the  Times-Journal  of  St.  Louis, 
the  Dispatch  of  Pittsburg,  the  Reading  Eagle,  Penn- 
sylvania; the  Henrietta  Journal,  of  Texas;  the  Evangel 
of  San  Francisco,  the  Telegraph  of  St.  John,  Canada; 
the  Guardian  of  Toronto,  Canada;  the  Christian  Her. 
aid  of  Glasgow,  Scotland;  the  Christian  Age  of  Lon- 
don, the  Christian  Globe  of  London,  the  Oldham 
Chronicle  of  Manchester,  England;  the  Liverpool, 
Protestant,  the  Southern  Cross  of  Melbourne,  Austra- 
lia; Town  and  Country  of  Sidney,  Australia;  the  Words 
of  Grace,  of  Sidney,  Australia,  and  many  others,  all 
around  the  world.  And  I  want  to  tell  you  that  when  I 
was  called  here  to  take  this  place,  while  I  received  the 
call  from  nineteen  people,  my  enemies  now  give  me  the  op- 
portunity every  week  of  preaching  the  gospel  to  between 
seven  and  eight  million  souls.  They  have  made  the  cu- 
riosity to  see  and  hear  what  I  would  say,  and  then  the 
leading,  the  honorable  newspapers  of  the  country  have 
gratified  that  curiosity.  Go  on,  mine  enemies!  If  you 
can  afford  it  in  your  soul  I  can.  So  God  makes  the 
wrath  of  men  to  praise  him,  and  while  I  thank  my 
friends  I  thank  my  enemies. 


TLOW  MIKiSTJSUS   ARE   LIED  ABOUT. 


479 


But,  while  the  falsehoods  to  which  I  have  referred 
may  somewhat  have  stirred  your  humor,  there  is  a  false- 
hood which  strikes  a  different  key,  for  it  invades  the 
sanctity  of  my  home;  and,  when  I  tell  the  story,  the  fair- 
minded  men  and  women  and  children  of  the  land  will 
be  indignant.  I  will  read  it,  so  that  if  any  one  may 
want  to  copy  it  they  can  afterward.  ("Reading  from 
manuscript.)  It  has  been  stated  over  and  over  again  in 
private  circles,  and  in  newspapers  hinted,  until  tens  of 
thousands  of  people  have  heard  the  report,  that  sixteen 
or  seventeen  years  ago  I  went  sailing  on  the  Schuylkill 
river  with  my  wife  and  her  sister  (who  was  my  sister  in- 
law); that  the  boat  capsized,  and  that  having  the  oppor- 
tunity of  saving  either  my  wife  or  her  sister,  I  let  my 
wife  drown  and  saved  her  sister,  I  marrying  her  in  sixty 
days  I  I  propose  to  nail  that  infamous  lie  on  the  fore- 
head of  every  villain,  man  or  woman,  who  shall  utter  it 
again,  and  to  invoke  the  law  to  help  me.  One  beautiful 
morning,  my  own  sister  by  blood  relation,  Sarah  Tal- 
mage  Whiteknack,  and  her  daughter  Mary,  being  on  a 
visit  to  us  in  Philadelphia,  I  proposed  that  we  go  to 
Fairmount  Park  and  make  it  pleasant  for  them.  With 
my  wife  and  my  only  daughter — she  being  a  little  child 
— and  my  sister  Sarah  and  her  daughter,  I  started  for 
Fairmount.  Having  just  moved  to  Philadelphia,  I  was 
ignorant  of  the  topography  of  the  suburbs.  Passing 
along  by  the  river,  1  saw  a  boat  and  proposed  a  row.  I 
hired  the  boat  and  we  got  in,  and  not  knowing  anything 
of  the  dam  across  the  river,  and  unwarned  by  the  keeper 
of  the  boat  of  any  danger,  I  pulled  straight  for  the  brink, 
suspecting  nothing  until  we  saw  some  one  wildly  waving 
on  the  shore  as  though  there  were  danger.  I  looked  back, 
and  lo!  we  were  already  in  the  current  of  the  dam. 
With  a  terror  that  you  cannot  imagine  I  tried  to  back 


4S0 


1I0W   MINISTERS  ARE  LIED  AUOUT. 


the  boat,  but  in  vain.  We  went  over.  The  boat  cap- 
sized. My  wife  instantly  disappeared  and  was  drawn 
under  the  dam,  from  which  her  body  was  not  brought 
until  days  after;  I,  not  able  to  swim  a  stroke,  hanging 
on  the  bottom  of  the  boat,  my  niece  hanging  on  to  me, 
my  sister  Sarah  clinging  to  the  other  side  of  the  boat. 
A  boat  from  shore  rescued  us.  After  an  hour  of  effort 
to  resuscitate  my  child,  who  was  nine-tenths  dead — and 
I  can  see  her  blackened  body  yet,  rolling  over  the  barrel, 
such  as  is  used  for  restoring  the  drowned — she  breathed 
again.  A  carriage  came  up,  and  leaving  my  wife  in  the 
bottom  of  the  Schuylkill  river,  and  with  my  little  girl 
in  semi-unconsciousness,  and  blood  issuing  from  nostril 
and  lip,  wrapped  in  a  shawl,  on  my  lap,  and  with  my 
sister  Sarah  and  her  child  in  the  carriage,  we  rode  to  our 
desolated  home.  Since  the  world  was  created  a  more 
ghastly  and  agonizing  calamity  never  happened.  And 
that  is  the  scene  over  which  some  ministers  of  the  gos- 
pel, and  men  and  women  pretending  to  be  decent,  have 
made  sport.  My  present  wife  was  not  within  a  hundred 
miles  of  the  place.  So  far  from  being  sisters,  the  two 
were  entire  strangers.  They  never  heard  of  each  other, 
and  not  until  nine  months  after  that  tragedy  on  the 
Schuylkill  did  I  even  know  of  the  existence  of  my  pres- 
ent wife.  Nine  months  after  that  calamity  on  the 
Schuylkill,  she  was  introduced  to  me  b}T  my  brother,  her 
pastor,  Rev.  Goyn  Talmage,  now  of  Paramus,  New  Jer- 
sey. My  first  wife's  name  was  Mary  R.  Avery,  a  mem- 
ber of  the  Reformed  Church  on  Harrison  street,  South 
Brooklyn,  where  there  are  many  hundreds  of  people  who 
could  tell  the  story.  My  present  wife,  I  sa}r,  was  not 
within  a  hundred  miles  of  the  spot.  Her  name  was 
Susie  Whittemore,  and  she  was  a  member  of  the  church 
in  Greenpoint,  Brooklyn,  where  multitudes  could  tell  he 


HOW   MINISTERS  ARE  LIED  ABOUT.  4S1 

story.  With  multitudes  of  people  on  the  bank  of  the 
Schuylkill  who  witnessed  my  landing  on  that  awful  day 
of  calamity,  and  hundreds  of  people  within  half  an  hour's 
walk  of  this  place  who  knew  Mary  Avery,  and  hundreds 
of  people  in  Greenpoint,  Brooklyn,  who  knew  my  pres- 
ent wife,  Susie  Whittemore — what  do  you  think,  hus- 
bands and  wives,  fathers  and  mothers,  editors  and 
reporters,  of  a  lie  like  that  manufactured  out  of  the 
whole  cloth?  I  never  have  spoken  of  this  subject  before, 
and  1  never  shall  again;  but  I  give  fair  notice  that,  if 
any  two  responsible  witnesses  will  give  me  the  name  of 
any  responsible  person  after  this  affirming  this  slander, 
I  will  pay  the  informant  §100,  and  I  will  put  upon  the 
criminal  vagabond,  the  loathsome  and  accursed  wretch 
who  utters  it,  the  full  force  of  the  law. 

But  while  I  have  thus  referred  to  falsehoods  and  crit- 
icisms, I  want  to  tell  you  that  in  the  upturned  faces  of 
my  congregation,  and  in  the  sympathy  of  a  church  al- 
ways indulgent,  and  in  the  perpetual  blessing  ol'  God, 
my  ten  years  here  in  Brooklyn  have  been  a  rapture. 
Now,  as  to- the  future — for  1  am  preaching  my  anniver- 
sary sermon — as  to  the  future,  I  want  to  be  of  more 
service.  My  ideas  of  a  sermon  have  all  changed.  My 
entire  theology  has  condensed  into  one  word,  and  that  a 
word  of  four  letters,  and  that  word  is  "help."  Before  I 
select  my  text,  when  I  come  to  this  pulpit,  when  I  rise 
to  preach,  the  one  thought  is:  How  shall  1  help  the  peo- 
ple? And  this  coming  year  I  mean,  if  God  will  give 
me  his  spirit,  to  help  young  men.  They  have  an  awful 
struggle,  and  I  want  to  put  my  arm  through  their  arm 
with  a  tight  grip,  such  as  an  older  brother  has  a  right  to 
give  a  younger  brother,  and  I  want  to  help  them  through. 
Many  of  them  have  magnificent  promise  and  hope.  1 
am  going  to  cheer  them  on  up  the  steps  of  usefulness 
31 


iS2 


HOW  MINISTERS  ARE  LIED  ABOUT. 


and  lienor.  God  help  the  young  men!  I  get  letters 
every  week  from  somebody  in  the  country,  saying:  "My 
son  has  gone  to  the  city;  he  is  in  such  a  bank,  or  store, 
or  shop.  Will  you  look  after  him?  He  was  a  good  boy 
at  home,  but  there  are  many  temptations  in  the  city. 
Pray  for  him,  and  counsel  him."  I  want  to  help  the 
old.  They  begin  to  feel  in  the  way;  they  begin  to  feel 
neglected,  perhaps.  I  want  at  the  edge  of  the  snow- 
bank of  old  age,  to  show  them  the  crocus.  I  want  to 
put  in  their  hands  the  staff  and  the  rod  of  the  gospel. 
God  bless  your  gray  hairs.  I  want  to  help  these  wives 
and  mothers  in  the  struggle  of  housekeeping,  and  in  the 
training  of  their  children  for  God  and  for  heaven.  I 
want  to  preach  a  gospel  as  appropriate  to  Martha  as  to 
Mary.  God  help  the  martyrs  of  the  kitchen,  and  the 
martyrs  of  the  drawing-room,  and  the  martyrs  of  the 
nursery,  and  the  martyrs  of  the  sewing-machine.  I 
want  to  help  merchants;  whether  the  times  are  good  or 
bad,  they  have  a  struggle.  I  want  to  preach  a  sermon 
that  will  last  them  all  the  week;  when  they  have  notes 
to  pay,  and  no  money  to  pay  them  with;  when  they  are 
abused  and  assaulted.  I  want  to  give  them  a  gospel  as 
appropriate  for  Wall  street,  and  Broadway,  and  Chest- 
nut street,  and  State  street,  as  for  the  communion  table. 
I  want  to  help  dissipated  men  who  are  trying  to  reform. 
Instead  of  coming  to  them  with  a  patronizing  air  that 
seems  to  say,  "How  high  I  am  up,  and  how  low  you  are 
down,"  I  want  to  come  to  them  with  a  manner  which 
seems  to  say,  "If  I  had  been  in  the  same  kind  of  temp- 
tation 1  would  have  done  worse."  I  have  more  interest 
in  the  lost  sheep  that  bleats  on  the  mountain  than  in  the 
ninety-nine  sheep  asleep  in  the  fold.  1  want  to  help  the 
bereft.  Oh!  they  are  all  around  us.  It  seems  as  if  the 
cry  of  orphanage  and  childlessness  and  widowhood  would 


HOW  MINISTBES  ABE  LIED  ABOUT. 


*513 


never  end.  Only  last  Wednesday  we  carried  out  a  beau- 
tiful girl  of  twenty  years.  Fond  parents  could  not  cure  her. 
Doctors  could  not  cure  her.  Oceanic  voyage  to  Europe 
could  not  cure  her.  She  went  out  over  that  road  over 
which  so  many  of  your  loved  ones  have  gone.  Oh!  we 
want  comfort.  This  is  a  world  of  graves.  God  makes 
me  the  sun  of  consolation  to  the  troubled.  Help  for 
one.  Help  for  all.  Help  now.  "While  thip  moment  the 
sun  rides  mid  heaven,  may  the  eternal  noon  of  God's 
pardon  and  comfort  flood  your  soul. 

I  was  reading  this  morning,  that  when  Richard  Baxter 
was  preaching  on  a  certain  occasion  in  England,  the 
shock  of  arms  was  heard  in  the  distance.  Twenty-five 
thousand  men  were  in  combat,  but  he  went  on  preaching, 
and  the  audience  sat  and  listened  though  they  knew  that 
a  great  conflict  was  raging.  While  I  preach  this  morn- 
ing, I  know  there  is  a  mightier  contest — all  heaven  and 
hell  in  battle  array,  contending  for  the  mastery  of  youi 
immortal  spirit.    Who  shall  have  it? 

TMr&y  pagea  are  here  added  to  correct  omission  let  pegiag  the  Ulastr&ttoae. 


514  SENSATION  VEIiSUS  STAGNATION. 


CHAPTER  XXXIX. 

SENSATION  VEIISUS  STAGNATION. 

There  arose  no  small  stir  about  that  way. — Acts  xix :  23. 

What  was  the  matter?  Paul  had  been  preaching  some 
sermons  that  seemed  to  upset  everything.  People  won- 
dered what  he  would  do  next.  What  is  that  great  bon- 
fire in  the  streets  of  Ephesus?  Why,  Paul  has  been 
preaching  against  the  iniquities  of  the  day  until  the 
people  have  brought  out  nine  thousand  dollars' 
worth  of  bad  books  and  tumbled  them  into  the  fire. 
There  seemed  to  be  no  end  to  his  impertinence,  for  now 
he  is  assaulting  the  Temple  of  Diana,  a  building  twice 
as  large  as  St.  Paul's  Cathedral,  London;  its  roof  sup- 
ported by  columns  of  green  jasper;  its  sculptured  altars 
of  Praxiteles;  its  paintings  Parthasius,  and  its  audi- 
ence-room capable  of  holding  fifty  thousand  idolaters. 
In  the  month  of  May,  when  there  were  a  great  many 
strangers  in  the  city,  come  there  to  buy  medallion  rep- 
resentations of  that  temple,  Paul  is  thundering  against 
it,  until  he  completely  ruins  the  stock  of  trinkets  and 
spoils  the  medallion  business,  and  the  merchants  gather 
together  in  a  great  indignation  mass-meeting  to  denounce 
him,  and  say  this  thing  must  stop.  Never  before  or 
since  was  there  such  a  sensation.  Paul  was  the  great 
disturber  of  the  day.  He  went  to  Iconium,  and  made 
a  sensation.  He  went  to  Corinth,  and  made  a  sensation. 
He  went  to  Jerusalem,  and  made  a  sensation.  In  other 
wcrds,  wherever  he  went,  "there  was  no  small  stir  about 
that  way." 


SEDATION  VERSUS  STAGNATION. 


What  is  a  sensation?  Noah  Webster  says  it  is  "an 
excited  state  of  thought  or  feeling,"  and  I  cannot  see 
anything  more  valuable  than  that,  if  the  excitement  of 
thought  and  feeling  be  in  the  right  direction.  But  as 
the  word  ''conservatism"  has  been  twisted  from  its  noble 
sense  to  mean  a  stupid  do-nothingism,  and  as  "liberal- 
ism" has  been  twisted  from  meaning  generous  treatment 
of  opinions  of  others  to  mean  a  surrender  of  Christian- 
ity, so  the  word  "sensation"  has  sometimes  been  twisted 
to  mean  everything  erratic  and  reprehensible.  But  this 
I  do  declare:  No  one  ever  accomplished  any  good  for 
church  or  State  without  exciting  a  sensation.  Sensation 
is  life.  Stagnation  is  death.  When  sometimes  I  have 
been  charged  with  making  a  sensation  1  have  taken  it  as 
complimentary,  and  I  have  wished  that  the  charge  were 
more  thoroughly  true,  and  I  promise,  if  God  will  help 
me,  in  the  future  I  will  make  it  more  accurate! 

I  go  on  in  this  anniversary  discourse,  begun  last  Sab- 
bath, and  to-day  speak  to  you  chiefly  of  sensation  versus 
stagnation.  When  I  was  a  layman,  worshiping  in  the 
pews,  I  noticed  that  religion  was  very  often  associated 
with  dullness.  I  noticed  in  political  conventions  where 
the  Governor  of  the  State  was  to  be  nominated,  all  the 
people  were  wideawake;  but  when  they  came  into  relig- 
ious assemblages  where  Christ  was  to  get  coronation, 
many  were  somnolent.  I  saw  that  in  assemblages  where 
financial  questions  were  being  discussed  people  were  all 
attention;  but  when,  in  religious  assemblages,  the  ques- 
tion was  whether  men  should  be  forever  mansioned  or 
forever  pauperized,  there  was  but  little,  ilertness.  I  noticed 
in  the  court-room  that  when  one  man  was  on  trial  for 
his  life,  there  was  agitation  and  enthusiasm;  but  when 
in  religious  assemblage  the  eternal  life  of  five  hundred 
was  being  discussed,  then  there  was  somnolence.  I 


516 


SENSATION  VERSUS  STAGNATION. 


noticed  what  every  layman  notices  and  remarks,  thai 
there  is  something  radically  wrong  in  the  church  of  God 
at  this  day.  In  our  boyhood  days  we  tried  every  kind 
of  art  to  keep  awake  in  church.  We  ate  caraway-seed, 
and  cloves,  and  cinnamon,  and  held  up  one  foot  until  it 
began  to  ache,  and  pinched  ourselves  until  we  were  black 
and  blue,  or  got  stimulus  from  an  older  brother  who 
stuck  us  with  a  pin,  or  saw  the  reproving  look  of  some 
older  sister  that  filled  us  with  a  sense  of  self-abnegation, 
until  we  looked  up  to  the  elders'  and  deacons'  pew  in 
the  old  Dutch  church,  and  saw  the  seven  sleepers  (!) 
these  consecrated  men  having  lost  their  hold  at  the  end 
of  the  second  head  of  the  discourse,  and  then  we  felt 
encouraged  to  think  that,  after  all,  there  might  be  some 
chance  for  us  when  such  very  good  men  got  asleep. 
What  is  the  use  of  hiding  the  fact  that  there  is  more 
sleeping  done  in  the  churches  than  in  any  other  kind  of 
buildings?  Many  of  our  churches  are  great  Sunday  dor- 
mitories. Men  who  are  troubled  at  home  with  insomnia 
and  cannot  sleep  on  the  pillow  at  night,  find  in  churches 
sometimes  the  needed  anodyne.  What  morphine  and 
chloral  and  pillow  of  hops  cannot  do,  sometimes  the  ser- 
mon and  the  long  prayer  accomplish.  Said  the  old 
Puritan  clergyman,  "And  now,  to  be  brief,  eight- 
eenthly !"  Oh,  how  many  arts  to  appear  awake  in  church ! 
You  have  seen  men  put  their  heads  down  on  the  pew  in 
front,  pretending  they  are  overcome  with  emotion,  when 
they  are  really  overcome  with  drowsiness.  I  tell  you  if 
we  do  not  keep  our  audiences  awake,  it  is  the  fault  of  us, 
the  clergy,  and  not  the  fault  of  the  people.  An  old 
Scotch  minister,  preaching,  saw  one  of  his  hearers  sound 
asleep,  and  he  said:  "Donald,  wake  up;  if  you  can't 
keep  awake  in  any  other  way,  take  a  pinch  of  snuff.'' 
"Ah!"  said  Donald,  "Doctor,  put  the  pinch  of  snuff  in 


SENSATION  VERSUS  STAGNATION.  517 

the  sermon  V  With  all  the  artillery  of  eternity  at  hand 
if  a  man  cannot  keep  his  audience  awake,  it  is  because 
he  has  missed  his  calling.  When  men  keep  taking  out 
their  watches  during  religious  services,  it  is  evidence  of 
the  fact  that  they  are  bored.  What  would  you  think  of 
a  man  at  a  banquet  taking  out  his  watch  every  few  mo- 
ments to  see  how  soon  he  could  stop  eating  a  cream 
meringue?  The  gospel  is  a  banquet,  and  our  populations 
are  starving  for  it,  and  their  souls  must  have  something 
to  eat,  and  they  have  no  patience  with  an  entertainment 
which  is  all  made  up  of  napkin-ring,  finger-bowl,  and 
red  tape.  I  put  the  complaint  that  the  people  do  not 
like  to  come  to  church  where  it  belongs.  I  say  to  the 
young  men  who  are  entering  the  ministry,  if  you  want 
an  audience,  do  as  Paul  did  in  my  text — make  a  big 
stir.  "There  arose  no  small  stir  about  that  way."  Men 
want  help.  Give  them  help,  and  they  will  come  again. 
What  do  they  care  about  the  conventionalities  of  relig- 
ion. How  much  of  your  Latin  do  they  understand? 
What  do  they  know  about  those  sesquipedalion  words 
that  crawl  through  vour  senses  like  thousand-levered 
worms?  They  know  that  your  chief 'anxiety  is  lest  you 
lose  your  place  in  your  notes.  They  know  it  is  all  a 
matter  of  calculation  that  the  soap-lock  curl  comes  down 
half  way  on  your  forehead,  so  that  at  the  right  moment 
you  may  brush  it  away  with  a  hand  delicate  and  dia- 
monded. What  do  they  care  about  your  Arian  contro- 
versy, when  the  controversy  with  them  is  how  they  can 
pay  a  note  of  §500  with  $200,  and  how  they  can  get 
comfort  for  the  child  they  buried  yesterday  in  Green- 
wood. I  judge  other  people  by  myself.  I  cannot  keep 
awake  in  a  religious  service  where  there  is  no  practicality. 
I  went  into  a  beautiful  church  for  worship.  I  sat  down. 
The  church  was  not  only  beautiful,  but  the  singing  was 


518 


BEN  SAITOH  VERSUS  STAGNATION. 


beautiful,  the  sermon  was  beautiful,  the  organ  was  bean* 
tifnl,  the  minister  was  beautiful;  but  there  came  over  me 
a  spirit  of  somnolence,  and  I  made  manful  resistance, 
and  after  a  while  I  said  to  my  companions,  "No  use,  I 
can  hold  out  no  longer, 99  and  I  put  my  head  down  on 
the  pew  in  front,  and  had  one  of  the  most  refreshing 
slumbers  in  all  my  life!  I  committed  no  sin.  The  man 
who  stood  there  for  three-quarters  of  an  hour  with  posies, 
and  didactics  heavy  as  lead,  was  the  criminal.  As  long 
us  we  stick  to  the  mere  technicalities  of  religion  in  our 
churches,  a  few  people  may  come  because  it  has  been 
eternally  decreed  that  they  should  come;  but  the  great 
masses  of  the  people  will  not  come  any  more  than  they 
would  come  and  sit  down  in  an  ice-house,  or  accept  an 
invitation  to  spend  an  evening  in  the  vault  of  a  cemetery. 
My  friends,  the  great  battle  in  this  country  is  to  be 
fought,  not  between  Christianity  and  infidelity,  but  it  is  i 
to  be  fought  between  honest  Christian  sensation  and  pu- 
trid stagnation.  Let  the  churches  of  God  wake  up,  hoist 
their  banners,  blow  the  trumpet,  give  the  battle-shout, 
and  in  twenty  years  the  earth  will  be  the  Lord's.  It  is 
high  time  we  brought  up  the  cavalry.  The  big  guns  are 
stuck  in  the  mud.  The  <*reat  danger  for  the  church  of 
God  in  this  day  is  not  sensation,  but  stagnation.  Sensa- 
tion  is  life.  Stagnation  is  death.  As  I  told  you  in  the 
beginning  of  this  discourse  last  Sabbath,  that  my  fii>t 
resolution  had  been  to  preach  a  religion  six  thousand 
years  old  appropriate  to  the  present  time,  so  I  now  tell 
you,  in  the  second  place,  that  it  has  been  my  resolution, 
God  helping  me,  never  to  be  dull.  There  is  something 
in  our  health,  there  is  something  in  our  lack  of  ventilation 
that  makes  us  dull.  The  reason  that  ministers  are  the  most 
merciless  critics  in  all  the  world  is  not  because  their 
hearts  are  any  worse,  but  because  so  many  of  them  are 


SENSATION    VEKSUS  STAGNATION. 


519 


troubled  with  indigestion.  The  entire  draft  ifl  on  the 
nervous  system,  and  much  of  their  life  is  a  sedentary 
life,  and  it  is  almost  impossible  for  some  of  them  to  keep 
well.  TThen  I  was  editor  of  a  religious  newspaper  and 
a  book  came  in  that  I  thought  ought  to  be  cut  to  pieces, 
I  always  handed  it  over  to  a  clerical  critic  who  had  the 
worst  dyspepsia,  and  he  always  cut  it  to  pieces,  and  cut 
it  to  pieces  enough.  Let  us,  however,  whatever  the 
state  of  our  health  be,  always  fight  against  dullness, 
whether  in  the  pew  or  in  the  pulpit — whether  in  the 
Sunday-school  or  in  the  prayer-meeting,  and  for  that 
reason  let  us  marshal  all  our  faculties.  It  we  have  log- 
ical  faculty,  harness  that.  If  imagination,  harness  that. 
If  humor,  harness  that.  If  physical  exuberance,  liar, 
ness  that.  There  is  not  anything  that  is  available,  in  a 
parlor,  or  on  a  lecturing  platform,  in  the  art  of  persuading 
people  to  right  feeling  and  right  action  that  is  not  ap- 
propriate for  the  pulpit.  I  shall  before  long  preach  a 
sermon  on  the  sarcasm  of  the  Bible.  Elijah  used  it. 
Paul  used  it  Christ  used  it.  If  a  man  say  a  thing  in 
church  merely  to  make  people  laugh,  he  is  reprehensi- 
ble; but  if  he  say  a  thing  so  strikingly  true  that  people 
do  laugh,  that  is  another  thing.  I  do  not  care  whether 
they  cry,  or  laugh,  or  hiss,  or  applaud,  or  get  up  and  go 
out,  or  what  they  do,  if  they  only  quit  sin  and  with  fleet 
foot  start  for  heaven.  For  this  purpose  we  must  ransack 
the  mineral,  the  botanical,  the  agricultural,  the  aesthetic, 
the  scientific,  the  poetic,  the  literary,  the  historical,  the 
astronomical  worlds  for  illustration.  If  we  cannot  get 
anything  better  than  two  flints,  we  must  smite  them 
together  and  strike  fire.  In  vain  the  gold  chasing  on 
the  hilt  of  the  sword,  if  the  edge  of  it  is  not  sharp 
enough  to  cut.  In  vain  the  $100  rod  and  reel  from  Cou- 
roy's,  with  fly  of  gold  pheasant  or  gray  drake,  if  we 


520 


SENSATION  VERSUS  STAGNATION. 


cannot  eaten  anything.  In  vain  the  expense  of  the 
collegiate  and  theological  education  of  seven  or  ten 
years,  if  we  get  hopelessly  buried  in  our  own  armor 
During  the  last  war  I  was  chaplain  for  a  few  weeks  in  a 
Pennsylvania  regiment,  and  I  was  told  one  day  that  there 
was  a  cavalryman  sick  and  wounded,  and  perhaps  dying, 
in  a  barn  four  or  five  miles  away.  I  walked  over  to  see 
if  I  could  be  of  any  service  to  him.  He  asked  me  to 
take  his  horse,  which  was  suffering  from  lack  of  atten- 
tion, and  his  entire  equipment  np  to  headquarters  at 
Hagerstown.  I  consented,  but  knew  not  what  I  was  un- 
dertaking, for  I  had  on  and  around  me  on  the  horse  a 
heavy  sword,  a  carbine,  pistols,  saddle-bags,  and  a  great 
man}?'  other  things  I  knew  not  the  names  of,  and  I  was 
so  overloaded  I  had  to  go  on  a  slow  walk  and  hold  fast 
to  the  pommel  of  the  McClellan  saddle,  and  when  I  got 
half  way  up  to  headquarters  the  girth  broke,  and  I  went 
off,  and  it  was  a  great  job  to  get  loaded  up  again.  In 
the  woods  all  around  about  there  were  stragglers  from 
the  Confederate  army,  but  they  did  not  seem  at  all  af- 
frighted at  my  warlike  appearance!  When  I  rode  up  to 
the  encampment,  and  the  boys  gave  three  cheers  for  the 
chaplain  who  had  been  so  brave  as  to  capture  a  horse, 
my  embarrassment  exceeded  my  exhilaration.  But  I 
was  then  in  the  condition  in  which  a  multitude  of  us  are 
in  the  ministry  to-day —  loaded  up  with  equipment 
enough  to  slay  Apollyon,  yet  we  cannot  wield  it,  and  we 
go  along  on  a  slow  walk,  afraid  that  our  system  of  di- 
dactic theology  will  fall  off  on  one  side,  or  our  church  his- 
tory or  homiletics  will  fall  off  on  the  other  side — carefully 
guarding  to  keep  our  theology  right  side  up,  while  Da- 
vid felled  Goliath  with  a  shepherd-boy's  sling,  and 
Shamgar  slew  six  hundred  men  with  an  ox-goad.  I  be- 
lieve in  the  day  of  eternity  it  will  be  found  out  that  some 


SENSATION  VERSUS  STAGNATION. 


521 


backwoods  Methodist  minister  who  never  had  but  three 
months'  education  in  his  life,  but  set  all  the  prairies  on 
fire  with  zeal  for  God,  and  in  the  summer  preached  to 
his  audience  in  his  shirt  sleeves,  will  be  found  to  have 
done  more  for  the  race  than  some  of  us  who  have 
all  the  titles  of  the  schools,  and  who  wrap  around  us  the 
gowns  and  the  bands  and  the  surplices,  which  are  not 
enough  to  keep  us  from  freezing  to  death  in  an  ecclesias- 
ticism  twenty  degrees  below  zero! 

But  I  go  further,  and  tell  you  in  this  anniversary  ser- 
mon that  in  the  decade  through  which  we  have  passed  I 
have  tried  to  carry  out  the  resolution  of  never  ex-plain- 
ing to  you  what  I  do  not  understand  myself.  I  believe 
in  God's  sovereignty  and  man's  free  agency.  Harmo- 
nize them  I  cannot.  I  believe  God  is  one,  and  yet  in 
three  persons.  How  that  can  be  I  know  not.  I  believe 
that  Christ  had  in  his  nature  the  divine  and  the  human. 
How  they  were  interjoined  I  cannot  explain.  For  years 
I  tried  to  explain  these  things,  but  I  found  that  the 
greatest  undertaking  of  my  life  was  to  make  other  peo- 
ple understand  that  which  was  beyond  my  comprehen- 
sion. Sometimes  when  I  had  preached  on  the  subject 
and  hoped  that  it  was  plainer  to  the  people  than  it  was 
to  myself,  and  pronounced  the  benediction,  some  plain 
man  at  the  foot  of  the  pulpit  would  ask  me  a  question 
which  would  confound  me,  and  I  would  have  to  tell  him 
I  would  see  him  some  other  time!  Now,  there  are  some 
things  that  I  do  know.  Sin  is  wrong;  that  I  know. 
Christ  came  to  help  us  out  of  it;  that  I  know.  Christ 
has  a  sympathy  compared  with  which  fatherly  and  moth- 
erly compassion  is  cruelty;  that  I  know.  His  grace  is 
mighty  for  mightiest  calamity;  that  I  know.  The  re- 
ligion of  Jesus  Christ  kindles  in  the  soul  great  expecta- 
tions amounting  to  a  supernatural  glee;  that  I  know. 


522 


SENSATION  VERSUS  STAGNATION. 


That  religion  is  a  sedative  to  soothe  all  nervous  per  turba- 
tion, that  is  a  stimulus  to  arouse  inertia,  that  it  pulls  up 
by  the  root  the  red  dahlia  of  war,  and  plants  instead 
thereof  the  white  lily  of  peace;  that  I  know.  That  it 
hangs  around  the  dying  couch  of  the  Christian  the  saf- 
fron, and  orange,  and  purple  clouds  of  a  heavenly  sunrise, 
and  swings  back  the  gates  of  glory  so  wide  that  they 
shiver  the  gates  of  the  sepulcher;  that  I  know.  Now, 
knowing  these  things  beyond  all  controversy,  knowing 
them  beyond  all  mistake,  knowing  them  from  my  own 
experience,  or  from  my  own  observation,  what  is  the  use 
of  my  taking  your  precious  time  and  my  precious  time 
in  telling  you  what  I  do  not  know?  We  had  a  great  fire  at 
my  house  the  other  day.  I  burned  up  five  hundred  man- 
uscript sermons,  for  when  I  began  to  preach  I  wrote  out 
all  my  sermons,  word  for  word.  In  those  sermons  that 
I  burned  up  I  explained  all  the  mysteries  of  religion, 
and  the  doctrine  of  election  was  as  clear  as  a  Scotch 
mist  or  a  San  Francisco  fog.  As  I  stood  by  the  kitchen 
fire  where  these  manuscripts  were  burning,  I  really 
thought  they  threw  out  more  warmth  than  they  had 
ever  thrown  out  before!  Really,  the  best  thing  you  can 
do  with  any  style  of  Christian  work  that  has  not  warmth 
in  it  is  to  burn  it.  The  pulpit  and  the  church  ought  to 
be  a  great  fireplace  around  which  the  people,  benumbed 
of  the  cold  world,  can  come  and  warm  their  entire  na- 
ture. Stir  up  the  fire  around  the  great  back-log  and 
bring  all  the  chairs  up  closer.  There  is  a  severe  irony 
in  the  usual  term  descriptive  of  a  minister's  notes. when 
they  are  called  a  minister's  skeleton.  Cold  statements 
of  truth  are  skeletons  that  weed  round  them  the  warmth, 
the  life,  and  the  eternal  sympathy  of  Christ's  gospel. 
There  is  nothing  in  romance  or  novel  so  enchanting  as 
the  religion  of  Christ,  if  you  see  it  fairly*  but  put  it 


SENSATION  VERSUS  STAGNATION. 


523 


down  on  the  dissecting-table  of  sharp  analysis  a.'id  rip 
its  heart  out,  and  you  have  made  it  loathsome  and  a 
corpse. 

Again,  my  dear  people,  in  this  decade  in  which  it  has 
been  my  happiness  to  administer  to  you,  it  has  been  my 
resolution  to  smite  sin  wherever  I  see  it,  reckless  of  the 
consequences.  The  reason  sin  triumphs  in  this  country 
is  because  we  do  not  call  it  by  the  right  name.  Minis- 
ters of  the  gospel  were  intended  to  be  the  Lord's 
artillerymen,  and  to  fire  away  at  iniquity  wherever  they 
see  it,  and  let  other  people  provide  the  ambulances. 
What  has  been  the  cause  of  the  excitement  over  the 
sermons  I  have  been  preach  ing  for  the  last  three  or  four 
months?  Because  they  were  awfully  true.  You  see  a 
group  of  dogs  fighting  on  the  commons,  and  you  throw 
a  stone  at  them.  Which  one  howls?  The  one  that  is 
hit.  The  worst  sign  of  the  times  is  that  the  public 
make  so  many  ministers  hush  up.  You  might  as  well 
try  to  stop  Asiatic  cholera,  or  yellow  fever  at  Grenada 
and  New  Orleans,  by  saying  nothing  about  them.  In 
order  that  I  might  take  straig liter  aim  at  iniquity,  I 
went  and  explored  the  dark  places  of  our  cities.  The 
common  sense  of  the  church  and  of  the  State  approved 
what  I  had  done.  Any  man's  common  sense,  if  he 
allowed  his  common  sense  to  come  up,  said:  "  You  can 
not  forcibly  assault  iniquity  until  you  see  it."  But 
there  were  some  who  did  not  like  the  way.  They 
thought  I  ought  to  have  gone  down  on  Brooklyn  Heights, 
and  loaded  my  gun  with  blank  cartridges,  and  then 
aimed  over  at  the  Fourth  ward,  New  York,  and  then 
turned  my  head  the  other  way,  and  shut  my  eyes  and 
pulled  the  trigger,  and  then  started  for  South  Bush  wick! 
Because  I  did  not  do  that  way  there  were  some  minis- 
ters almost  frantic  about  my  exploration  of  city  life. 


524 


SENSATION  VERSUS  STAGNATION. 


They  believed  in  the  exploration  of  Africa  by  Stanley, 
and  the  exploration  of  the  heart  of  the  North  American 
continent  by  Fremont,  but  were  afraid  of  the  explora- 
tion of  worse  heathenism  within  five  minutes  of  the  City 
Hall  of  Brooklyn  and  within  five  minutes  of  Broadway, 
New  York.  To  hear  some  of  my  dear  brethren  talk,  you 
would  have  supposed  I  had  been  the  first  clergyman  that 
had  ever  made  an  exploration  of  underground  life  in  our 
great  cities.  Why  I  could  call  off  the  names  of  scores 
of  ministers  and  evangelists  in  the  country  who  have 
made  the  same  tour.  The  police  who  took  me  around 
those  nights  told  me  thev  had  taken  them  around  on  the 
same  rounds.  I  could  make  a  big  disturbance,  if  I  had 
the  heart,  in  a  great  many  churches  in  Brooklyn  and 
New  York;  but  I  never  make  any  disturbance!  The 
difference  between  my  exploration  and  the  exploration 
of  these  other  dear  brethren  was,  that  they  said  nothing 
about  it,  except  among  ministerial  brethren,  while  I 
uttered  it  in  the  hearing  of  my  people,  announcing  the 
thunders  of  the  Lord  God  Almighty  against  the  crimes 
and  warning  the  young  men  of  this  country  to  look  out. 
The  bar  of  God  will  decide  which  was  the  better  plan — 
to  look  at  iniquity  and  say  nothing  about  it,  or  to  look  at 
iniquity  and  give  the  warning,  not  only  so  far  as  I  may 
reach  from  this  platform,  but  through  these  journalists, 
whom  I  shall,  to  the  day  of  my  death,  thank  for  their 
kindness.  I  preached  some  years  ago  in  this  place, 
about  the  average  American  theater,  and  the  people  all 
over  said:  u  Why,  you  are  talking  about  the  theater,  the 
historical  theater  as  it  was  two  or  three  hundred  years 
ago;  if  you  want  to  see  the  theater  as  it  is  now,  or  know 
about  it,  go  and  look  for  yourself."  I  saw  there  was 
force  in  the  criticism,  and  I  tell  you  if  ever  I  treat  those 
subjects  again  I  shall  first  personally  make  a  tour  of  the 


SENSATION  VERSUS  STAGNATION. 


525 


theaters,  and  I  shall  see  who  is  there  and  I  shall  see 
what  kind  of'plays  they  have.  Iam  done  looking  through 
other  people's  spectacles!  God  has  given  me  two  first, 
rate  eyes,  and  I  am  going  to  use  them.  But  whether  I  de- 
nounce sin,  or  commend  Christ  to  you,  my  dear  congre- 
gation, I  will  always  choose  the  most  startling  and 
arousing  theme  I  can  find,  and  bring  to  it  the  most  start- 
ling and  arousing  illustrations  I  can  think  of,  trying  to 
produce  the  most  startling  and  arousing  results,  willing, 
if  I  can  save  men,  to  be  called  by  all  the  world  a 
sensationalist.  In  this  great  lawsuit  between  Sin,  Sen- 
sation the  plaintiff,  versus  Stagnation,  the  defendant,  I 
appear  as  attorney  for  the  plaintiff. 

But  once  more  and  this  will  close  these  anniversary 
thoughts  which  I  have  been  presenting  for  two  Sabbaths. 
I  have  tried  to  present  to  you  a  religion  which  would  not 
leave  a  man  in  the  lurch.  'What  was  the  trouble  with 
those  trains  that  came  out  from  Chicago,  a  week  ago 
last  Thursday?  They  started  out  beautifully  and  swiftly, 
but  they  came  to  the  snow-banks  and  stopped,  and  the 
trains  were  disbanded.  Oh!  my  friends,  we  want  to  get 
on  a  through  train.  We  do  not  want  a  religion  which 
takes  us  smoothly  through  this  life,  merely  for  a  few 
miles  on  earth,  and  then  puts  us  out  at  the  snow-bank  of 
a  cheerless  grave.  No!  You  may  take  that  train.  I  will 
not  take  it.  I  will  start  on  a  highway  where  the  marble 
of  the  tomb  is  only  the  mile-stone  on  a  road  always 
brightening  and  improving.  "Come  with  us  and  we 
will  do  you  good;  for  the  Lord  hath  promised  concern- 
ing Israel."  I  have  told  the  men  who  feel  themselves  to 
be  the  worst,  that  Christ  died  for  them,  and  they  have 
come.  And  now  this  morning,  I  want  you  all  to  join 
me  on  this  path  to  heaven.  It  is  all  tracked  up.  Exam- 
ine these  tracks  in  the  dust  of  the  road.    Ah!  those  are 


526  SENSATION  VERSUS  STAGNATION. 

little  feet  that  have  been  tracking  the  road.  Have  you 
lost  children?  They  went  up  this  way.  I  see  their 
tracks  on  the  road.  But  here  there  are  larger  footsteps 
but  footsteps  that  were  very  short — very  short  steps,  as 
though  they  were  the  steps  of  the  aged.  Is  your  father 
gone?  Is  your  mother  gone?  They  went  up  this  way. 
And  behold!  in  the  track  of  the  road  I  see  the  mark  of 
a  foot  that  was  bare,  and  a  scar  in  the  hollow  of  the 
foot.  Oh!  it  was  the  footstep  of  a  wounded  Christ. 
This  is  the  way — walk  ye  in  it. 


